Her Song of Fire and Ice
by Felicity Dream
Summary: They say when Sansa Stark was born, she'd been touched by fire. Maybe she was, maybe she wasn't, but fire and ice seem to be in her blood. Maybe that's why her soul is damaged so much that she needed three Soulmates to hold her together? Depending on who's asked, Soulmates weren't the happily ever after of the stories Sansa hoped for, not with the men she's apparently bound to. AU.
1. Firebright

Disclaimer: I recently got obsessed with Game of Thrones, but doesn't mean I own it!  
Story: They say when Sansa Stark was born, she'd been touched by fire. Maybe she was, maybe she wasn't, but fire and ice seem to be in her blood. Maybe that's why her soul is damaged so much that she needed three Soulmates to hold her together? Depending on who's asked, Soulmates weren't the happily ever after of the stories Sansa hoped for, not with the men she's apparently bound to. In any case, for the rest of the world, they hope the three chosen could keep her from either burning the world down or icing it into a living level of the Seven Hells.  
Set as a gigantic canon AU with divergence as a side dish.  
Spoilers: Yeeeessss. Yes, yes, yes. Beware?  
**Warnings:** It's GoT, what do you think? And Ramsay is His Own Warning. (Hell, the Boltons are their own warning XD)  
**Pairings: **(Main) Roosa (Roose /Sansa), Stansa (Stannis/Sansa), and Tysan (Tywin/Sansa). (Side) Probably a lot of Others/Sansa (mostly one-sided though), with a focus on Jaime, Petyr, Oberyn, and Sandor. Arya/Gendry (or Jaqen H'gar…or both of them). I'm leaning towards Danaerys/Jon, but probably going to be strong hints of one-sided Dany/Sansa though.

**Her Song of Fire and Ice  
**_Chapter One: Firebright_

Robb was the first born son of House Stark. He'd grown up knowing he was heir to Winterfell and its lordship.

But he was a few years older than the one he'd always felt would fit much better at leading and ruling over Winterfell and the North.

Sansa had always been such a _lady_. She drew others to her so easily, like moths to a flame —ironically, given Sansa's bright red hair; hair that many linked to her Tully looks, but had even their mother quietly comment that it was even brighter and shone like fire.

Ned Stark used to say his daughter was blessed by a fire fae and that was why she had taken on a fiery temperament and looks.

Robb thought that was as accurate about his sister as ever, even when he was six and she was four, just as well now that he was eleven and she nine.

Still, even young, Sansa had always been best at bringing others to her, with her endless patience and kindness, and willingness to listen to others (even if they didn't deserve it!). She was so sweet, it made his teeth ache like he'd eaten too much dessert, and she handed little nuggets of childish (but oddly wise) advice to others. Sometimes, he could even almost imagine it was like she was holding court as if she was Queen or even like she was really a child version of their father and a miniature Lady of Winterfell.

And his sister was also even more unique, if he could speak what he thought aloud. Sometimes though, maybe he was imagining things, but whenever his sister was around fire, the flames seem to…dance happily. And when she was emotional, he even thought they reacted to her emotions! When she giggled, they'd dance in place, and when she was angry or upset, they'd flare up.

He'd tried mentioning it to their parents, but Catelyn had dismissed it as fanciful imagination and Ned had solemnly (but still a tease) told him he'd told him he'd been right about that fairy fae. By the time their younger siblings were born, he'd stopped talking and focusing on it, keeping it to himself. The only other person he'd told and still talked about it was Old Nan, and she still muttered to herself that Sansa had been touched by a fire _demon_ (not a faerie, like Ned claimed) and so Robb hadn't said another word about what he thought happened around Sansa again.

He was really happy to have her around though. Even with Theon and Jon around, it was just never the same without Sansa for some reason.

Part of him felt like they should've been twins.

* * *

At two and ten, Sansa had already become good enough with sewing and embroidery to be able to start making most of her own gowns. She always enjoyed her mother's and septa's praises, and was proud of her own work.

That was why she couldn't understand Arya at all!

She had thought that since Arya was a girl like her, the two of them would get along best and like all the same things. But Arya _wasn't_ like her. Not at all.

Instead, she was wild and rowdy and-and acted more like a boy than their brothers sometimes! They couldn't get along at all and were more prone to fighting and bickering, and Sansa acted less like a lady and more like a wild child like Arya whenever the two of them fought.

Sansa _tried_ to get along with Arya, but her younger sister wouldn't do anything with her. She thought all the things she liked were stupid and boring, and all the gowns and cloaks she lovingly made were made fun of by Arya (who would even carelessly ruin them). Sometimes, she was petty enough to retaliate. She would talk about Arya with her friend Jeyne, or even allow Jeyne to make fun of Arya and say nothing about it.

Her sister was mean to her and did it more often, so Sansa sometimes was angry enough to not act like a lady and push back.

That's why, as Septa Mordane began lecturing Arya on her stitching, she felt herself smile smugly to herself, pleased to hear Arya getting upbraided. Just that morning, Sansa had awoken to Arya having had Nymeria pee at the foot of her bed and she'd been utterly gleeful of Sansa's dismay.

She lost her smile though, her hands faltering from her own stitching as Septa Mordane left and she heard Arya start to sniffle and quietly cry. She discreetly looked at her younger sibling and pressed her lips together tightly.

Arya was _still_ her sister.

Glancing over to where Septa Mordane had disappeared, Sansa scooted her chair closer to Arya, receiving a wary look from the other girl.

"Here, left me unstitch it quickly for you," Sansa said, taking the cloth from Arya and doing so. "Now…you're not moving it as you stitch and you're too stiff…"

Arya could be a pain, but they were family and Sansa wouldn't let her sister feel like she didn't care.

"Why're you helping me?" Arya grumbled, still wary of her.

"Because," Sansa huffed. "You're mean and immature and so _horrid_…but you're my sister."

Despite it all, she _did_ love Arya.

* * *

"Here, let me help you," Jon said and Sansa awkwardly allowed her half-brother to help her onto her horse. He gave a somber, though sincere, smile and stepped away from her, ducking his head as he walked to his own horse.

Sansa watched after him, biting her lower lip in thought and slight guilt.

She thought that Jon was always so kind and thoughtful to her, but she always followed after her mother and treated him (while not unkindly or thankfully not cruelly) without warmth or her usual sweetness. But…but she didn't have to be cold to him and she could start now.

"Jon?" she asked timidly.

He turned to her with surprised eyes. "Yes, Sansa?"

She gave him a small smile. "Father bid me to go travel to Winter Town to start taking stock for winter, while Robb was supposed to follow him around today. Would you accompany me?"

Jon brightened up a bit before he hesitated. "Would…would Lady Stark approve? I don't want to upset anyone —"

"It's fine," Sansa said firmly. "I'll just say that I asked you to be my guard," she declared with certainty, refusing to think about her mother then.

Catelyn Stark wasn't there. She was and she wanted her half-brother —_brother_ to accompany her, regardless of her mother's feelings about Jon. She was determined to treat Jon better and for them to become closer siblings.

He finally acquiesced and it wasn't long until the two of them were riding side by side. She glanced at him, eyes catching sight of his sword. It made her think of another sibling.

"You know…both you and I know someone who would _love_ to learn how to use a sword," she gave him a meaningful look.

He laughed lightly, shaking his head as he returned her look. "You think Arya would want to learn sword fighting from me?"

"I _know_ she would."

Arya had done nothing but chat Sansa's ears off about it, ever since they'd somehow managed to get closer and get along better.

If Sansa had to handle hearing Arya talk one more time about learning sword fighting…

So thankfully later, after dinner, she and Jon had swept Arya away and hid in the old Stark Crypts.

"What're we doing here?" Arya asked them in annoyance.

"Oh? After all the trouble I went to convince Jon to try to teach you sword fighting?" Sansa asked blithely, pretending to be put upon.

She grinned to herself as she saw Arya actually squeal and rush towards her, tackling her into a tight hug that nearly knocked her off her feet. She heard Jon chuckling nearby and after a short glare at him, she sighed and went back to grinning, shaking her head at him before embracing Arya back in a gentler hold.

"Jon's got the practice swords," she told Arya. "We're in here so that we won't get caught and get in trouble."

"We'll have to be careful because of the tight space," Jon warned them.

"Are you going to be learning too?" Arya asked her, looking at her intently and almost…hopefully?

Sansa stopped herself from grimacing. Her? Learning to use a sword?

"I don't know," she said uncertainly.

"It'll be useful," Jon added in to her surprise, and she looked at him to see him nod encouragingly. "You never know."

Sansa watched the two, who weren't looking away from her. She sighed again and nodded, ignoring their quiet cheers.

"I'll take a turn, I suppose," she said dubiously.

She didn't think she'd really need it, but she suppose if the other two really wanted her too…

Honestly, this wasn't what she had in mind when she thought of bonding with Arya (or even a way to become closer with Jon)!

She guessed it'll do though.

As they set up, her eyes trailed to the statue of her late aunt, gazing at the tribute to Aunt Lyanna. Pursing her lips and wondering about a strange feel of familiarity of her aunt's features, she shook her head at herself and went back to watching her siblings.

Then she froze and watched Jon more closely. Glancing between boy and statue, she thought quickly and dug her hands into her skirts. It couldn't be, could it?

No, no, her mind was just playing tricks.

She was just over-thinking things.

* * *

At four and ten, Sansa worried about getting her moonblood. She didn't know if it was late and she was just a late bloomer, but she worried about it not appearing yet and already becoming at the age where she should be looking to be getting married.

She hadn't been blind to the stacks of missives on her father's desk and had peeked. Already, missives had been sent asking for her hand and she worried herself to death about her father's thoughts.

She didn't want to marry yet. She hadn't even flowered.

She didn't even know if there was a chance she could fall in love —a sweet, handsome knight to sweep her off her feet, like in her stories; better, a Soulmate to complete her other half! She just wanted a chance to fall in love first, instead of being married off.

She knew her duty. She'd been raised knowing it. She knew her mother's family words.

Family. Duty. Honor.

But Sansa had read so many stories that she'd dreamed of being just like one of those women, and hadn't let go of such thoughts yet. She wanted to be able to have a lasting love like her mother and father, especially one of those sweet, private moments Sansa managed to glimpse when they were sure they were alone and could share one together.

It made her heart beat at the thought that she could have a moment like that with her own husband.

"Sansa? What are you doing here?" she heard her mother ask, huddling by her father's desk. "I thought you'd like it if I brushed your hair before bed."

In comfort, that's where Sansa always seemed to end up at.

Sansa gave her mother a wan smile as she stood up, watching her mother place the brush on her father's desk.. "I was…I was waiting for Father. I wanted to ask him…I wanted to ask him what he thought about the o-offers," she stumbled over the word.

Catelyn looked at her in shock before sighing and coming closer. "Your father will find you a good match," she swore. "You need not worry."

She bit at her lip, ducking her head. "But…can't we wait a little longer? I haven't flowered and I only wished to see if there is a chance for a Soul Mark —"

"Don't be ridiculous," her mother said sharply, making her startle.

"M-Mother?" Sansa's eyes widened.

Catelyn's lips thinned. "A Soul Mark is nothing but a mark on your skin. Soulmates? It doesn't _mean_ anything, Sansa. Having a Soulmate doesn't change anything. To have one is a burden."

"But you and Father —" Sansa tried to protest.

"Are in love," Catelyn nodded. "I _love_ your father, as I know he loves me…But things are not perfect. We're bonded, but that means nothing in the end. Being Soulmates doesn't mean you will be the perfect pair. It'll be nothing to be disloyal and have the ability to hurt 'your Soulmate.'"

Jon. This _had_ to be about Jon. Mother had never let go of what happened.

Sansa bit her lip, trying not to let her tears fall. But she shook her head and ran from the room, snatching up the brush and holding it to her chest as if she could ward off the frantic, sad beats of her heart.

* * *

His beautiful, beautiful daughter sat near the heart tree, gazing at it quietly as she brushed her hair. He smiled to himself as he watched her.

His Sansa grew more lovely and sweeter as time passed, and he became more and more prouder of her. He was not always attentive to her like the others, which guilt plagued him about, but she had always been so well-behaved that it had been much too easy to let alone, especially with Catelyn taking more of a hands-on role with her than the others.

Ned frowned to himself then though, as he noticed the still drying tear tracks on his daughter's face.

He had heard about Catelyn and Sansa having some sort of disagreement. He hadn't known what about, but Robb had told him that Catelyn's voice had been raised and then Sansa had run from the room (and apparently to here).

"Firebright," he called out to her with the name he'd tenderly teased her with, letting her know of his presence.

She paused in her brushing and tentatively looked over to him. Tully blues shined with leftover tears and his poor heart melted for his beloved daughter. His sweet, sweet daughter of four and ten.

He walked over and sat next to her, taking the brush from her and turning her back to face the heart tree. He began to gently brush her hair himself.

"She told me Soulmates were burdens and that even having one didn't mean anything. Your other half can still hurt you."

Ned winced, knowing just exactly what Catelyn still resented about. Their names were entrusted upon each other's wrists, but by bringing back Jon, he had damaged his relationship and bond with Catelyn. Even if the truth was that Jon belonged to Lyanna, no one could ever _know_ that truth.

He had allowed it this way for Jon's protection and Catelyn had never forgiven him for it.

He sighed heavily and put down the brush, placing a hand on his daughter's shoulder and leaning in to press his lips to the top of her head, her bright and fiery hair shifting.

"My sweet Firebright," he murmured. "It's…complicated. What your mother believes and feels on Soulmates is complicated."

"But you and she are bonded!" Sansa protested. "Everyone knows that having one is a blessing from the Gods!"

Ned paused in thought before gifting his child with a solemn smile.

"A blessing, yes. But it is a curse as well. To be honest, little one, to have a Soulmate is a blessing _and_ a curse."

His sweet Firebright child. He hoped she would never feel and understand the darker side of Soulmates, like his wild, well-loved sister.

Lyanna Stark had not been _blessed_ but cursed.

Started 1/14/20 – Completed 1/18/20

**A/n: Whhhy? Why did I get obsessed with another fandom?! Welp, here I am. Writing. Again. Welcome to my Madness. I've been working on this since last year (most of the scenes I've written for this story are set in the future and I had to push myself for this first chapter XD), so I'm happy to finally start on this. I hope you enjoy and are excited! Please remember to review~**


	2. Pulse Point

Disclaimer: I recently got obsessed with Game of Thrones, but doesn't mean I own it!  
Story: They say when Sansa Stark was born, she'd been touched by fire. Maybe she was, maybe she wasn't, but fire and ice seem to be in her blood. Maybe that's why her soul is damaged so much that she needed three Soulmates to hold her together? Depending on who's asked, Soulmates weren't the happily ever after of the stories Sansa hoped for, not with the men she's apparently bound to. In any case, for the rest of the world, they hope the three chosen could keep her from either burning the world down or icing it into a living level of the Seven Hells.  
Set as a gigantic canon AU with divergence as a side dish.  
Spoilers: Yeeeessss. Yes, yes, yes. Beware?  
**Warnings:** It's GoT, what do you think? And Ramsay is His Own Warning. (Hell, the Boltons are their own warning XD)  
**Pairings: **(Main) Roosa (Roose /Sansa), Stansa (Stannis/Sansa), and Tysan (Tywin/Sansa). (Side) Probably a lot of Others/Sansa (mostly one-sided though), with a focus on Jaime, Petyr, Oberyn, and Sandor. Arya/Gendry (or Jaqen H'gar…or both of them). I'm leaning towards Danaerys/Jon, but probably going to be strong hints of one-sided Dany/Sansa though.

**Her Song of Fire and Ice  
**_Chapter Two: Pulse Point_

Jon turned a corner, looking specifically for their spot. And there she was, Sansa curled up at the base of Lyanna Stark's statue, looking utterly miserable.

Robb had been harried as he told him that Sansa had been upset and had suddenly disappeared, and had needed help to find their sister. Although Jon already had an inkling of where Sansa could be (and was right), he hadn't wanted to tell Robb about this spot.

It was their spot.

Whenever he or Sansa were upset, they'd go here and the other could find each other (unless they were already with each other and ended up coming here together). It was just their…spot. _Their_ spot.

Maybe part of the reason why it was there and nowhere else, aside from the obvious privacy and the ability to hide from the rest of the world (and no one, aside from Arya, thinking about this place), maybe it was just the best secret spot to spill their secrets and have secrets —in front of the woman who held so many secrets of her own.

As Jon settled himself quietly beside Sansa, he glanced up at the beautiful Lyanna and frowned.

He didn't know what to feel about her.

Even if she was most probably his mother.

_Sansa looked anxious, her hands twisting at her skirt as she watched him with her wide eyes. Eyes like Catelyn's, but prettier to Jon (but he was surely being biased), Sansa looked like like she was haunted by something._

"_I don't know if I should tell you —I don't even have proof! But it's just been there in the back of my mind and I've been thinking about it over and over and over —"_

"_Sansa!" he cut her off. "What is it?" he asked worriedly, prying her hands away from her skirt._

_Sansa looked around. "Not…not here."_

_So somehow they'd made it to the crypts and were huddling together by Lyanna's feet. Sansa looked up furtively._

"_Do you ever look at her and think she looks familiar?" she asked him._

"_I don't suppose so?"_

_Jon never really had and wasn't sure why Sansa asked. His sister looked at him morosely._

"_I don't think you're Father's bastard at all," she said solemnly. "I think…I think that you're Aunt Lyanna's."_

_He jumped away from her to protest, but he faltered. He looked at the statue and thought hard._

_Sansa wouldn't make light of this. It wasn't in her nature and she wasn't a cruel person to make a jest of this. If she really put thought into this idea and maybe even believed it, there must be some reason for it and a potential for truth —no matter what he'd feel about it._

"_I'd still think of you as my brother," Sansa said, still solemn. "And I'm sure so would the others. And I __**know**__ Father would never let you feel any differently and you would always be a son to him. He loved Aunt Lyanna after all."_

_That was true and would help make sense why Ned Stark had decisively and without question taken him in, even in the face of Catelyn's wrath and inevitable hurt._

"_But why wouldn't he at least tell your mother?" he asked, feeling anguished about all this, especially as (without it being said by either of them), the most probable father had been Rhaegar Targaryen. He wasn't ignorant about the story of Rhaegar and Lyanna._

_He didn't want to be a child of rape._

_Sansa shifted uncomfortably before leaning more against Lyanna's legs. "Not that I'm nosy or anything," she blushed a bit, which helped make him feel amused and relieve some of his feelings, "but sometimes I hear Father complain about Mother speaking too much to Aunt Lysa. They're close siblings, you know. Even if Aunt Lysa's supposedly not…all there? Anyway, Mother talks to her a lot through ravens, catching up and talking all sorts of things sometimes. Lesser now, for some reason, but they used to speak plenty."_

"_I guess that's good for siblings?"_

_Sansa peered at him hesitantly. "Aunt Lysa is married to Jon Arryn."_

_Jon furrowed his eyebrows, still not getting it. He thought about it, remembering who Jon Arryn was, and then he straightened up and stared at Sansa wildly._

"_He's…he's the King's Hand."_

_Sansa's solemn gaze refused to go away. He swallowed heavily and sat back down next to her, leaning heavily against his sister._

_King Robert hated all things Targaryen and had loved his supposed mother._

"_Aunt Lysa wouldn't have kept it from Uncle Jon," Sansa muttered. "And it would've reached the King's ears."_

_Jon took a shuddering breath and felt Sansa sneak her hand into his, which he squeezed gratefully._

_Morbidly, he wondered how long would he have had to live if the truth ever came known._

Jon tried not to think about it often, but sometimes it crept into his head and made him all the more glad that he was here with his family. He was eternally grateful his uncle had taken him in and was still trying to protect him, even at the cost of his marriage and bond to Catelyn, though he felt slightly guilty about that.

He had no cares about the throne or a life he could've had otherwise. He had no wish to be related to a madman and a raper.

He was fine here.

So he focused back in on Sansa and nudged her slightly with his arm, seeing her peek up at him under her long lashes.

"Want to tell me what's wrong?"

Sansa's lip trembled. "Mother…Mother was trying to get me to think about some marriage offers earlier. She was insisting it was time for me to think about them and look through them, and that my insistence on waiting was fruitless. That I might not even get a Soul Mark."

Jon couldn't help the irritability. There wasn't any harm in Sansa waiting. She was maybe a little older than the girls who usually have married already, but she was still more than young! He didn't know why Catelyn had to be like this.

"I know I'm late," she muttered. "I know I've yet to flower. So I don't know why I can't wait until then! At least I will have flowered and be ready for marriage and babies, and by then I will know if I have a Soul Mark or not."

But then she started sniffling. "And before that, Old Nan tried to cut off all my hair and insist it was unnatural and wicked and-and-and I had to run away so she wouldn't do it!" Sansa practically wailed.

Alarmed, Jon reached around her and held her tightly. "You know Old Nan! She's absolutely mad. Mad and superstitious, and she has all these nonsense stories she likes to talk about."

Sansa sniffled a few more times, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.

"…My stomach hurts too. It's been hurting all day," she mumbled.

Jon smiled at her. "Why don't we go to the kitchens and see if they have anything that'll help?"

He stood and held out his hand and Sansa grabbed it and slowly got up. When she gave him a smile with trembling lips, he thought that she'd be okay and weather this out.

She was always good at doing that.

* * *

Sansa whimpered, moaning against her pillow and clutching her arms around her stomach. The pain had worsened overnight and she was at the point where tears were escaping her eyes constantly.

Pushing herself off of the bed, she stumbled off of it and found a candle, lighting it to see her way. The first thing she saw though, was the horrifying bloody mess on her bed. Scared and upset, she rushed over to it and noticed that the bloody stains were more on the lower part of her bed and with a sinking feeling, she looked down at herself and saw her ruined gown. Peeling it up revealed the blood staining her legs and she gasped.

She hadn't realized receiving her moodblood would be this painful or bloody!

While she now understood that her stomach pains had been the cause of the first time she'd bled, she hadn't liked the misery of it all.

Then she realized that she'd flowered and that now was the time for her to see if she had been blessed by the Old Gods and received a Soul Mark. Looking at her wrist and realizing it had also bled, her heart beat faster at what that meant. Finding a cloth and a water basin that had been left in her room after her request for something she could use to relieve her stomach pain, the water had longed cooled and the cloth no longer needed warming.

Instead, she dipped the cloth into the water and used it for cleaning. Nervous, she decided to clean herself up first, taking off her gown and wiping her legs clean of the blood before putting aside a new gown to wear after she was done. Then she looked at her wrist and stared.

She tentatively took the cloth and wiped it clean.

After seeing the name on her wrist, she first felt shock. It quickly gave way to confusion, then to terror, and then to numbness.

She kept her tears at bay and instead went to the looking glass, trying to understand what this meant and why had the Gods put _his_ name on her wrist.

Sansa was further shocked though, when looking at herself through the looking glass revealed blood that was drying above her left breast and around the side of her neck. Numbly cleaning those areas, she dropped the cloth when she saw the names that had been revealed under the blood.

What…what did this all _mean_?

* * *

When Sansa was younger, she remembered all the Northern tales of Soulmates and their Soul Marks. Those tales captured her heart, just like the songs and stories of knights and the romance with fair maidens. She'd wished she'd had a Soul Mark and dreamed of having her own Soulmate when she got older.

Sansa was a girl of five and ten now and had started her bleeding yesterday.

But, writ upon her wrist in red as bloody looking as the blood that left her body, was a name.

And another name upon her breast, just above her heart.

And a final one resting upon her neck.

Sansa felt them, had looked upon them in the looking glass, and had stared.

She had three Soulmates, three names, pounding quietly in tandem with her heartbeats.

* * *

After discovering the names, she hadn't told anyone she'd received them. More than one Soul Mark had never been mentioned in the tales. She had never heard of anything like it and feared that there was something _wrong_ with her. That maybe her soul was so fractured that it needed three others to hold her together.

But Soulmates were a good thing, wasn't it? A blessing from the gods —

"_A blessing, yes. But it is a curse as well. To be honest, little one, to have a Soulmate is a blessing __**and**__ a curse."_

Her father had told that to her a long time ago and she had never understood what he'd meant. Part of her now felt like, while still unclear, she should heed what he meant.

Especially given the names on her skin.

The names that were another reason she'd not said anything about her Soul Marks to anyone. The men she shared souls with were not the men she'd expected, nor any she thought her family would've either.

"You look quite distracted, Sansa," her older brother said in amusement, watching her with a brow raised.

She hid her grimace and couldn't help her hand shooting to her wrist and grasping it, the name emblazoned there throbbing. Robb had caught the action.

"Did you hurt your wrist?" he asked in worry, coming closer.

"N-no! It's fine, Robb!" she stuttered, not hiding her panic very well.

Her brother narrowed his eyes and darted forward, grasping said wrist and lifting it to his eyes. The very same eyes that widened as it saw the Soul Mark.

"You've received a Soul Mark!" he exclaimed breathlessly. "And it's…"

"I know," she said quietly, hiding her wrist again. "I've two more."

Robb stared at her then and she shrugged, moving her hair away and lightly tracing the name scarred on her neck and then gently placed her hand on top of her breast, patting a finger on the name hiding under the cloth of her dress.

"_Three_," Robb breathed out. "By the Gods…" He bit his lip and looked at her wrist again. "Your…other Soul Marks…Do _they_ have names that will be…as surprising?"

'_Unacceptable.'_

Sansa looked away. "I suppose so."

For on her pulses were names of men quite older than her and who her family would probably or most definitely not approve of at all.

"The Great Lion, Tywin Lannister himself, written on your wrist," Robb muttered. "The other two?"

Sansa curled in on herself slightly. "Stannis Baratheon above my heart and…I could not read it clearly, but I saw clearly enough Bolton upon my neck."

She could see her brother swallow slowly and then he leaned into her, pushing her hair away and looking at her neck.

She knew there was a Domeric Bolton, but he'd passed away recently and she feared having a deceased Soulmate. She didn't know much of it, but she knew that it wasn't a good thing.

"_Roose_ Bolton," her brother winced and Sansa tensed.

Domeric's father? But…

It seemed she was destined for these men, and she felt all too wary for who they were.

* * *

Sansa had been very familiar with the histories of the three men she was meant for. Tywin Lannister, a man she knew was ruthless and had gained a reputation as a fierce and cunning warrior, seasoned in war. Her other two Soulmates were also learned in violence and familiar with warfare, and were just as equally battle hardened. Stannis Baratheon was someone she'd heard was dour, held no fondness for nonsense and courtesies, and was impatient with those who would dare try to court his favor. And Lord Bolton was one of her father's bannermen, a Northman who had a reputation for being as cold as their winters, and as dangerous with blades as his family's words indicated he should be. That wasn't withstanding the age old rivalry and enmity between House Bolton and House Stark, back when there were just Winter Kings and Red Kings at court in the North.

No, she very well knew of her Soulmates.

And it seemed, after receiving their names, she was cursed with hearing about them.

"That man!" she heard her mother hiss, while silently huddling around a bookshelf in her father's solar. "I can't believe him."

"Catelyn," her father's patient voice tried to soothe her mother. "His son passed away. He has no choice but to take in his bastard. Lord Bolton may very well even seek to legitimize him."

She frowned to herself. Her mother would never accept bastards, Jon always weighing too heavily on her.

Sansa's mother huffed. "You know the rumors surrounding his bastard. They call him a 'mad dog'. And the circumstances of his birth…"

"We have no proof," Ned said sharply. "We don't accuse others without proof and we certainly will not accuse Lord Bolton of anything."

Catelyn muttered something Sansa couldn't hear, but her voice was back to normal sound soon enough. "We both know he still practices the First Night. Ramsay Snow is the result of it!"

Sansa flinched, wrapping her arms around herself.

"You don't even trust him," Catelyn accused.

She didn't hear her father say anything for a moment before, "It's not that I don't _trust_ him, Cat. But I am _wary_ of him —I know what Lord Bolton is capable of and I am very aware of the history between our Houses. I am also sure that whatever there are probably truths regarding whatever 'rights' he may or may not practice. But I am also sure that he knows better and has been keeping it quiet and not flaunting his practices. Lord Bolton is smarter than that and there _is_ some sort of accord between us."

"He is a cruel, violent man," Catelyn insisted.

"But he is also an efficient, practical, logical man —one who has shown his loyalty and should not be disregarded."

Sansa fled, confused and not wanting to hear anymore. Unfortunately, her aimless wandering only led her to Bran's lessons with Maester Luwin, who was even more unfortunately in the midst of lecturing Bran about one of her other Soulmates —Lord Lannister.

She closed her eyes tightly as she listened to them from the side. The downfall of Houses Reyne and Tarbeck. The Rains of Castamere. The Sack of King's Landing.

Any slight and The Great Lion would cut you down.

Sansa was, once again, reminded that her Soulmates were hardened men and she was still just a little girl, and would be so in their eyes.

By the time she found herself in her father's solar and fumbling through history books, she felt utterly wrung out. She didn't know what she looked like, but when her father saw her and had a worried look on his face, she thought it probably wasn't good.

"Firebright, is everything okay?"

"Is Stannis Baratheon a good person? Is he…I know he's probably not nice, but is he a cold person?" she blurted out, before being horrified of herself. How impolite!

Her father looked taken aback, but quickly became thoughtful. "I don't know him personally, so not very well. I know he's a good, respectable man, and one who has honor and is fair to a fault. He would willingly deal out justice however strongly he felt on it. Ser Davos Seaworth saved him and his men at Storm's End and ended up with some of his fingers cut off because he'd been a smuggler. But by the same token, Lord Stannis also elevated that same common born smuggler into a knight for his deeds. He is fond of the saying, 'One good deed does not wash out the bad.'"

"What about his family?" she hesitantly asked, knowing that he was married and even had a daughter.

Ned frowned and looked uneasy. "His is not…His marriage isn't like mine and your mother's. While arranged, your mother and I grew to love each other, even finding out we were Soulmates. Our names had been on our wrists since I turned three and ten and she had first flowered, but in the South, it's not taken much stock of and it's a private thing in the North anyway. Brandon, my brother, was first born and so she was promised to him. My father and grandfather weren't happy about it, given they knew her name was on my wrist, but none of us were just about to reveal something sacred like our Northern Soulmate customs to Southrons, who don't believe in or don't even know of such things. Eventually though, after Brandon's death and Cat and I were betrothed, her family were let into the private Northern customs and at least now believe and have learned to cherish it.

"Lord Stannis and his wife though, their story is very much different. Even without being Soulmates, the two of them are widely known to be miserable together and in their marriage. There is no lost love between them and they only have one daughter. She's a lovely girl, but apparently plagued with harsh scars on her face from greyscale. While Lord Stannis may be a cold man to his wife though, when his daughter contracted greyscale when she was young, he refused to give up on her and called upon all he could to find a cure for her and took care of her himself, when everyone else were too afraid in fear of getting the sickness themselves. He may be a cold husband to his wife, but he is not a cold father. He loves Shireen, even if he'd never loved Selyse, so you mustn't mistake him as a wholly cold person, Sansa."

She nodded thoughtfully, glad her father didn't question why she would ask about Lord Stannis.

Still, she felt so overwhelmed that she excused herself and thought she could sleep her thoughts away.

* * *

Sansa knew it was dark and everyone would be asleep or going to sleep by now, even the servants. She had to do this now, so that no one would know.

If they found her with her bloody sheets, they would know she had flowered already and then her mother would push the marriage offers even more. And if Soulmates were brought up, she'd have to reveal her Soul Marks.

All _three_ of them. And of _who_ they were.

Having hid the sheets in her room, she retrieved them now and began to quietly sneak out of her room. Treading carefully through the corridors, she was just about to reach the empty kitchens, when Theon appeared through the entrance and stared at her.

She froze, feeling and probably looking guilty.

"What've you got there, Red?" Theon started smirking, crossing his arms across his chest and looking at her teasingly.

Sansa huddled the sheets to her, looking down at the floor and trying not to panic —or cry. If Theon told everyone…

"Hey, hey! What's with that look?" he asked, sounding worried.

She glanced at him underneath her lashes and held the bedclothes closer to her. He glanced at them and actually took a close look at them, exhaling loudly when he figured it out.

"Did you…did you, um…" he couldn't get the words out.

"I don't want anyone to know," she told him miserably.

"Give it here," Theon ordered shortly and she glanced at him in surprise. "Look, even if I got caught with them, they won't connect the sheets with you. They'll just lecture me and assume I bedded some kitchen wench or something and took their maidenhead. Whatever reason they come up with, I promise it won't have anything to do with you."

She hesitantly handed them over and Theon grabbed the bedclothes. She bit her lip before she quickly moved forward and hugged him tight.

"Thank you, Theon."

When she moved away, she saw that he looked awkward and even had a slight pink tinge to his cheeks.

"Marry a nice lordling soon," he told her. "So you can be happy, run a keep, and have a bunch of brats driving you mad."

Sansa felt herself smile slightly, maybe even a bit sadly. "Maybe."

It was a different path to take.

Parting ways with Theon, she was on her way back to her room, when she saw her father heading towards her door.

"Father?"

Startled, Ned turned to face her and gave a solemn smile. "Ah, what're you doing up so late, little one?"

"Couldn't sleep," she answered simply.

Her father gallantly offered his arm, smiling slightly. Giggling, she took it and he led her away from there.

"There is something I must tell you," he said carefully. "Your mother was adamant and pushed me to come tell you without delay. She also decided and told me it best I be the one to tell you."

Sansa had a churning feeling in her gut, but waited for her father.

"The King is coming to visit soon," he told her, making her shocked. "I was told that Jon Arryn," here he looked aggrieved and she remembered that Lord Arryn had mentored her father and that they'd been close, "had recently passed. Most likely he is to come and ask me to be his new Hand."

She didn't know what she felt about that. Her father (and all Starks really), well, they all belonged in the North. That's what she'd always been told and what she'd learned.

"He also strongly hinted at proposing a betrothal between you and his eldest son," her father ended softly.

She stopped short and stared up at him, feeling a numbness —not unlike what she felt when she first received her Soul Marks —overtake her.

"I…I see," she said faintly.

He squeezed her hand. "You do not have to answer for it now," he spoke reassuringly. "But you can think on it."

"I will," she murmured.

* * *

She'd once dreamed of knights and Soulmates, and filled her head with songs and fairytales. Sansa felt a shift in her once she'd gotten her Soul Marks and found that things were not always the perfect dream she'd wanted.

She was Soulmates with men who had experienced much of life already, when she was barely grown and had only just flowered. Three men who had been married and had children, and she had only helped rear her younger brothers and sister (though sometimes Robb and Theon needed to be minded; thankfully Jon was much more mature and hadn't minded helping her).

What would they want with a young girl like her?

_They would not want to be burdened with a child for a Soulmate._

Two of them were Southrons too (though technically one was a Westerner), unlearned in the importance and knowledge of Soulmates. They would scoff at the idea and brush her aside.

She had always thought she'd be happy if she was lucky to receive her Soul Mark and have a Soulmate. But now she wasn't so sure and she knew her mother had never really taken stock in it —not even though she loves Ned Stark through thick and thin, and who had been her Soulmate, their names emblazoned on each other's wrists.

Jon's existence probably hadn't help her formerly Southron-born mother.

Then again, if her suspicions had been true, then Father wasn't really Jon's father —he was his uncle instead. But she didn't dwell on it, because she and Jon had long figured out why the reason had been to keep him quiet from everyone.

The King might be her father's friend, but Robert Baratheon had loved Lyanna Stark and hated all things Targaryen.

She was a dreamer, her brother had joked once. She found herself not thinking of dreams anymore.

Silently, Sansa's feet moved across the godswood and searched out the heart tree she frequented and was her father's favorite spot for contemplation. Here, she would contemplate as well.

Kneeling before the haunting face of the tree, she gently reached out with her trembling hand and touched it, biting down on her lip.

"I know that Soulmates and being gifted one is a rare, sacred gift, and I'm truly grateful to be blessed with not just one but three…" Sansa said softly, gazing upon the face with resignation.

"But I must not accept," she said quietly but firmly.

This was best.

"Even if I am supposed to be theirs and they mine, I cannot have them," she swallowed thickly, blinking back tears. "Even if my own soul is shattered and cries for them, I won't have them. _Even if I end up cutting myself on the shattered pieces of my own soul_."

It really was best this way.

Started 11/11/19 – Completed 1/23/20

**A/n: Hmm, reception to this is better on Ao3 than on FFN…I don't know if that means I was successful or not? XD Welp, here's a longer chapter that I really hadn't meant to get away from me and get so long :D Please enjoy and remember to leave a review to feed my soul~**

* * *

**Quick Points:**

1\. **Current GoT Fics**: _Her Song of Fire and Ice_ (SansaxRoose/Stannis/Tywin), _A Red King Bowed_ (Roose/Sansa), and _March to My Heartbeat_ (Stannis/Sansa).


	3. Cobblestones of Broken Dreams

Disclaimer: I recently got obsessed with Game of Thrones, but doesn't mean I own it!  
Story: They say when Sansa Stark was born, she'd been touched by fire. Maybe she was, maybe she wasn't, but fire and ice seem to be in her blood. Maybe that's why her soul is damaged so much that she needed three Soulmates to hold her together? Depending on who's asked, Soulmates weren't the happily ever after of the stories Sansa hoped for, not with the men she's apparently bound to. In any case, for the rest of the world, they hope the three chosen could keep her from either burning the world down or icing it into a living level of the Seven Hells.  
Set as a gigantic canon AU with divergence as a side dish.  
Spoilers: Yeeeessss. Yes, yes, yes. Beware?  
**Warnings:** It's GoT, what do you think? And Ramsay is His Own Warning. (Hell, the Boltons are their own warning XD)  
**Pairings: **(Main) Roosa (Roose /Sansa), Stansa (Stannis/Sansa), and Tysan (Tywin/Sansa). (Side) Probably a lot of Others/Sansa (mostly one-sided though), with a focus on Jaime, Petyr, Oberyn, and Sandor. Arya/Gendry (or Jaqen H'gar…or both of them). I'm leaning towards Daenerys/Jon, but probably going to be strong hints of one-sided Dany/Sansa though.

**Her Song of Fire and Ice  
**_Chapter Three: Cobblestones of Broken Dreams_

They were gathered in the archery range, taking turns aiming arrows at the targets and with the Stark direwolves laying by the side and watching them keenly. The Stark siblings and Theon were just being idle and spending time together. Even so, a lot of things were weighing heavily on Sansa's mind.

Arya yanked on her sleeve. "Hey, hey! Shoot with us!"

Sansa reluctantly glanced at the targets. "I don't know…"

"Please," Arya whispered. "We both know the boys think they're all the best at this, but we know you're much better!"

"Only because you decided you prefer the sword," Sansa answered wryly.

Arya gave her a cheeky smile and Rickon forcefully pulled away from her, cheering her on with Arya.

"Oh? Red's joining in?" Theon grinned rakishly.

Sansa huffed but accepted the bow and quiver full of arrows. Pulling on her archery gloves, she set herself up and aimed at the target. At the loud thud her arrow made, she smiled and remembered how she learned how to use a bow as she glanced at a proud Arya.

"_Jon's teaching us how to use a sword and I know it'll never be…you," Arya said casually, too casually._

"_I'm fair at it, but I doubt I'll ever be as good as you," Sansa mused._

"_Okay, but…maybe I can teach you how to use a bow? I think you'll be better at it."_

_Sansa turned to her to refuse, but stopped short at her sister's hidden hopeful look._

_Oh. Well, if they couldn't bond over and spend time together over embroidery, she could concede to this…_

Arya had wanted to and insisted she teach Sansa how to use the bow. Had _especially_ insisted _she_ was the one to teach her and no one else. So Sansa had agreed and it became something of a known thing around there about first her practices and then Sansa's unexpected skill of it (unlike their sword practices, which were still amazingly secret).

"At least she's not got a quarterstaff to beat you upside the head with!" Robb teased Theon, who grimaced.

Sansa had reached their sides and had grabbed the hidden quarterstaff, before she (and without blinking) swatted Theon and Robb's backsides with it. They yelped. Jon actually had a smug smirk.

"I am still inordinately pleased to have introduced Sansa to the quarterstaff. She's taken to it quite well."

"Too well," Robb grumbled.

Sansa blushed. She did, actually, liked the quarterstaff. It was lighter than the sword, even if it could be handled like one. She fit better with a quarterstaff than any sword handed to her. Jon had idly thought she'd pair better with it than the sword, mostly because of when she complained that a sword was too heavy and too clunky for her. A sword was cumbersome, while it was easy for her to lift and move around a quarterstaff, and she admitted she had fun just twirling it around. She'd gotten very good at maneuvering it, and was so well practiced that she could do it with her eyes closed. She even enjoyed and was better with a quarterstaff than with a bow.

The only downside was that everyone had found out because Jon had to ask Ser Rodrik about it so they could acquire one. It hadn't taken long to spread through the castle. Sansa's mother had been furious —the archery she could blame on Arya, who had always wanted to be more like the boys…But her Sansa? No, not her.

Sansa admitted she loved acting a lady, but she also admitted that she'd come to learn to enjoy these kind of things.

"Father's told me the King and his family is coming," Robb announced.

Sansa flinched.

"Really?" Theon asked in interest. "Wonder why?"

Before Robb could answer, Sansa found herself speaking first. "The Hand of the King is dead. He means to ask Father to be his new Hand."

"No way!" Arya shouted.

"Is he going to accept?" Jon asked worriedly.

"Who knows?" Robb said, eying Sansa speculatively, probably surprised she'd known.

"I don't think so," Arya said skeptically before remembering what the Stark children have always been taught, growing up. "Starks don't always do well South and he knows that. That and this has always been his place."

"His home," Jon agreed.

"The King has hinted that his oldest son and I would be betrothed, to persuade Father," Sansa suddenly revealed, shocking everyone.

"But —" Alarmed at Robb's interruption, she shot him a look, causing his upset face to become mulish and a terrible scowl to form on him.

Arya scrunched up her nose. "I heard he was pretty. You sure you want to be married to someone like him?"

She opened her mouth, but found she had nothing to say. The truth was that she _wasn't _sure. The fact that she had Soulmates made her want no one else, and while she might have once upon a time loved the idea of marrying the Prince and thought him handsome…Now she felt like she didn't want to, and couldn't drum up any desire to think of his looks.

He might not even be considered handsome in her eyes anymore.

"It's best," she found herself saying, just like she'd been repeating to herself ever since her father told her about the King's visit and probable betrothal.

"'It's best', she says," Theon snorted. "Come on, Red. We all know you love your pretty little fairytales and now you get to have a sweet prince to sweep you off your feet now," he ended, having a rather stiff smile.

Sansa forced on her own smile. "Yes, I suppose so."

But then…now that she had her Soulmates, she didn't want a prince. She wanted her Soulmates.

She didn't even know what they _looked_ like.

It made Sansa uneasy, that already the Soul Bond was so influential like this. They wouldn't even be affected the way she was —she'd been born long after they had been, so they hadn't received their Soul Marks when at the age they were supposed to. Markless for all they knew, though her Southron Soulmates might not even know or care about these things.

No, unless they physically touched, her name would never brand them and they would never know about her.

"I feel faint," she said as an excuse to leave, though after her thoughts, she did start to feel a little faint. "I think I'll leave to my room for some rest."

She turned and left them without looking at them, practically rushing away. Her arm was grabbed nearer to her room however, and she saw Robb standing there, breathing a little hard from his run after her.

"You're…for someone 'faint', you seemed rather spry," he accused.

She averted her eyes. "I wasn't feeling well," she insisted.

Robb pressed his lips together angrily and opened her door, pushing her through it and then closing the door after him.

"You're not serious, right? There's no way you can marry the Prince."

Sansa frowned at him. "Why not?"

"You have Soulmates!" Robb stared at her. "Three of them!"

"You don't refuse the King," she reminded him, knowing that would not end well. She didn't know how fond the King was of their father, but she wasn't sure that refusing him was a good idea. "You know Father wouldn't and I have to do my duty regardless."

"That's shit," Robb eyed her, still angry. "He has to —King or not. Father won't allow it either, if he knew you've received your Soul Marks."

"But would they really want me?" she said suddenly, making him balk and stare at her.

Sansa gave him a grim smile. "Look how young I am compared to them? They had already lived their lives, Robb. They have their heirs, their family, have had wives —they have no need of a young wife, one that would probably annoy them. I would not burden them with me."

Robb grit his teeth. "_Burden_. Mother is always spouting things like that whenever the two of you get into this. Why would you believe her now?"

"Maybe a part of me has always been listening to her," she said honestly. "Maybe it's made more real now that I have my Soul Marks and know who they are, that I have three of them and just _exactly_ who those three are. Did it not occur to you that things become less ideal when you're faced with the truth of it? Come, Robb. I was a silly girl with dreams and now I've been shown that those dreams were just that. Fairytales aren't made to become reality, Robb."

He made a face. "When did you become so cynical like this, Sansa? You don't know how things could be."

"Mother is bonded to Father," she pointed out tiredly. "Maybe there is a bit of truth."

"She's just still angry about Jon!"

And Sansa knew she was. Even if she and Jon had figured out the probable truth of his parentage, it didn't erase the hurt Catelyn felt or the subtle underlying pain Ned Stark felt by Catelyn's unwitting and just as subtle rejection.

Rejection that also made Sansa wary.

"She's still hurt and Father is the cause," Sansa murmured. "And she doesn't know she hurts Father in return."

"But," Robb continued, though she interrupted quickly.

"Who says they would even _want_ me, Robb?" Sansa finally admitted wearily. "With all that I've said on them, do you really think they want to have their lives interrupted and dictated by this? No, they wouldn't and I wouldn't want to push myself on them."

"You're their Soulmate though," he insisted.

"And they haven't yet acknowledged me as theirs," she said, voice cracking. "And they might not ever will. They probably _won't_. Just thinking they won't puts me into this miserable mess, and if I actually came to them and they _did _reject me? Robb, I think I wouldn't want to be alive."

If her mother was so sure Soulmates could hurt each other and seeing what she did to Sansa's father all these years, Sansa couldn't bear the rejection —especially from all three of them.

"And it's not just being rejected, Robb," Sansa felt like she was starting to work herself up. "You know them! My Soulmates have reputations as these hardened, ruthless men —could they hurt me too?"

It made her anxious. If she upset them in anyway, would they hurt her in punishment? Suddenly, the rules of Soulmates were nowhere steadfast and available and she felt like she was floundering.

But Robb grabbed her hand and gave her a tender smile, making her sniffle and embrace her brother tightly.

"Maybe it's naive, but I really think you shouldn't be rash. _And_ to think maybe they won't be unhappy bonded to you," he said firmly. "Just think on it. At the very least, Lord Bolton would acknowledge you. He's of the North —he knows our ways."

Sansa pulled back a little to give an unsure look. "You've always said he scares you. And we both know his reputation."

"I've said it and I'll say it again —that man scares me," he grinned at her, making her roll her eyes and lightening up the situation a bit. "But we both also know he's a Northman and strictly follows our customs and the Old Gods and ways. He'll at least be the one who acknowledges and accepts you for sure," Robb told her, sounding confident in that.

She wasn't as confident, but she was glad Robb was making an effort to convince her.

Robb cleared his throat, lifting up his own left wrist and letting the sleeve fall. Written on his wrist was _Talisa Maegyr_.

"You have a Soul Mark! You never said, Robb!" Sansa gasped.

He gave her a sheepish look. "You know us Northman. We're silent, broody and private."

Sansa found herself giggling. But she grabbed Robb's wrist and held it gently.

"I hope you become happy and well-loved, Robb," she told him warmly.

Robb kissed her temple. "You too, Sansa."

If nothing else, even if all she could have was Lord Stannis and Lord Lannister's presence near her in court, then she could be content. And the knowledge that her Northern Soulmate might accept her was all she could ask for.

What a messy business, this Soulmate mess.

* * *

Sansa kept the smile on her face as the King and his party arrived to the courtyard. Aside from her still constant anxiety of her Soulmates and the impending betrothal, she…wasn't much impressed by the King.

From all the stories her father used to speak about King Robert, she'd expected someone a little more _impressive_.

Loud, raucous, and bawdy, the King wasn't the man she'd pictured. She was glad to see there was still a strong camaraderie between he and her father, but King Robert was still…

"Ah, your children! Come, let me take a look, Ned!"

Sansa stiffened up as King Robert looked over the Stark children, starting from the youngest to then her and Robb. To her surprise, he looked over Robb first before he looked upon her.

"And now your eldest daughter," he hummed, eying her closely. "A true beauty, Ned! An image of Lady Stark —I say, they are right to call her the Jewel of the North!"

Sansa flushed red in embarrassment and surprised pleasure at the King's compliments.

"My son will be lucky to have her."

And then her mood immediately dropped.

King Robert called his oldest son over and Sansa came face to face with Prince Joffrey. Joffrey was…handsome, she supposed. All golden, just like his siblings and mother and uncle. Maybe, yes, like Arya said. A bit pretty.

But…but he was apparently really going to be her betrothed and his looks mattered little. He was good-looking enough and maybe he'll even grow into his looks and become just as charmingly handsome as his uncle, Ser Jaime.

Joffrey took her hand and lightly kissed it. "My Lady."

She strengthened her smile. "Your Grace."

They were betrothed, she had to keep reminding herself.

His pale green eyes, a sickly green almost, flicked up and down her body, making her smile tighten while she refused the urge to slap him.

_They were betrothed._

* * *

"Theon, can I have a moment?" Sansa asked him furtively, trying to not look around and be suspicious.

"What do you need, Sansa?" he asked, probably conscious of all the strangers about and not using the name he'd nicknamed her with, though at least he was still familiar enough to leave off her title.

"Not here," she muttered, leading away to emptier corridors. She continued quietly. "Lord Tyrion is known for…his taste in women. I've already arranged lighting in his room, so he may read well and as long as he'd like into the night. But I thought I'd ask you for help in this and any women you'd recommend."

Theon's eyebrows shot up. "I'm surprised you didn't ask Robb or Jon."

"Robb and Jon are overprotective idiots who wouldn't hear me out in the first place, and would start ranting about 'my sensibilities' and that this kind of talk wasn't for ladies of my stature," she snarked, causing him to snicker. "And we both know Jon couldn't go through with being with one of them." Though she knew why and was sympathetic about it, it didn't change the point that Jon had never slept with that whore.

Theon actually blushed. "Wait, you know about that? How did you —"

"Well?" she asked impatiently.

"Oh Gods, Robb and Jon'll kill me," Theon moaned, rubbing his face with his hands roughly. "Alright, alright! Come on —make sure you cover up well, so no one recognizes you."

She hadn't thought it'd be this easy to convince Theon.

Still, as she covered her hair up with a hood and tucked the red strands in, closing in the cloak around her, Sansa thought about what she was arranging. She wanted to be a good host to their guests, but she especially wanted to make sure her Soulmate's family enjoyed their time there and remembered it fondly.

That even if Lord Tyrion didn't know about this, he'd bring good tidings to his father about Winterfell and the North —of Sansa's home. If she didn't move, maybe he'd come to visit. Or if she did leave Winterfell, hopefully he would think on it charitably and share her care of it.

She did not know Lord Tywin Lannister, but a part of her was wistful that one day she could.

"Here," Theon whispered to her, dragging her hurriedly into the whorehouse.

She waited patiently as Theon met with the owner, arranged things with him and then led her to a woman that came in during the discussion.

"Ros," Theon addressed the pretty woman. "This is your client and she'll task you with what she wants you to do."

Ros smirked flirtatiously. "Oh? A woman? I like that. Who is she?"

Being in a private setting finally, Sansa let her hood down, causing Ros to step back in shock.

"Hello," Sansa greeted shyly. "There's a Lord that became a guest of my family's —I would like it if you knew a few of you who wouldn't mind pleasuring him."

"O-of course, milady," Ros said hurriedly. "I wouldn't mind accepting myself, if you'd like."

"She's my favorite, Red," Theon winked at Sansa.

"Theon!" Ros hissed at him, swatting at his arm. "Don't speak to the Lady like that!"

Sansa just smiled widely. "Thank you very much! You'll be well compensated."

Ros smiled herself, blushing lightly. "For you, Lady Sansa, I would be honored. Although, I would be more than pleased if the Lady would like some time in the future for some pointers herself," she added on teasingly, unable to help herself.

This time it was Sansa who was blushing horridly, with Theon laughing in the background.

* * *

Sansa moaned, biting down on her lip and hunching over. This was _horrible_. When there was talk of moonblood, they never mentioned the pain you went through!

Glancing at her bed, she knew she wouldn't be able to sleep in it. The maids would find the sheets bloody and she couldn't risk hiding them or trying to dispose of them again. She looked at the floor and sighed, grabbing a pillow and placing it on the floor by her bed. She placed a few more pillows so she could cushion her back at least, but laying on the floor felt cold to her legs. And her stomach was still hurting. When did it stop?

Mumbling to herself, she turned and accidentally landed on the cold floor with a jolt of pain. After she stopped focusing on the pain though, she noticed that the cold and flatness of the floor felt blessedly nice against her stomach. It was enough for her to relax into and focus on the feeling, eventually falling asleep, just barely registering her direwolf Lady settling beside her in comfort.

When she woke up, despite a little soreness and stiffness, she felt much better and rose up for the new day. Cleaning herself up first before the handmaids came, she got ready for the day and then left to find her family, Lady following beside her.

At the table, she sat between Rob and Arya and looked around for Jon. Frowning when she saw him seated farther away from the high table, she glanced at her mother with a frown. Knowing they had an audience though, she kept quiet and her unhappy looks to herself.

It was then that Jory came hurriedly to her father's side and she saw him frown at the news.

"Ned, do you need to attend to something?" King Robert asked before he guzzled down the wine in his mug.

Wasn't it too early in the morn for spirits? Sansa inwardly cringed.

"I must deal with a deserter from the Night's Watch, Your Grace," her father told the King solemnly. "Please continue to break your fast while I deal with this matter."

"Nonsense! I shall accompany you. A deserter, eh? It's off to the block for him, I bet!"

Ned looked hesitant but he nodded to answer his King. He looked over to his children. "Robb, as always you must accompany me. As will Jon and Theon, so fetch them. Bran, it's time you come."

And as they got up, Ned paused before searching out Sansa's gaze.

"Sansa, I believe you should come this time."

Her eyes widened and stared at her father, who continued to look at her. Her mother made a pinch look, but she knew Catelyn wouldn't dare speak up in front of King Robert and the royal family, all who were watching closely.

"Getting all your eldest brood ready for the grimmest aspects of life, huh Ned! Good idea —Joffrey, you're coming as well."

"Of course, Father!"

But all the while, Sansa and her father never looked away from each other, giving one long look at the other before sharing a grim glance as Sansa slowly nodded and Ned finally looked away to move to the King's side.

Her father wanted her prepared for something and she would do well to try to figure it out soon.

So it was a long walk for the group, with Robb hovering to her right and Jon to her left (even Theon was behind her, hovering just as well and glancing with a scowl at Joffrey). Jon reached out to grab her hand and squeeze it quickly, before letting go as if he hadn't done so. She looked over at Bran by their father's side, looking small and unsure, but trying his best to look like he was ready for this. By their sides, all of their direwolves trotted protectively.

When she looked over to King Robert and Prince Joffrey, she frowned as she saw the Prince striding beside his father and looking arrogant and unfazed.

It was an execution, did he not understand? This was no laughing matter.

It wasn't long until the deserter was brought in. His last words spoke of this _terror beyond the Wall_, making her chills run up her spine and goosebumps to rise on her flesh, and then her father was utterly grave as he readied his sword. He raised it and she heard Robb tell Bran not to look away, and so she didn't either.

The sword was brought down and the deserter's head rolled.

She inhaled sharply, the image stuck in her mind. But then she accidentally looked over to the King and Prince, King Robert surprisingly but appropriately silent and as solemn as her father.

Joffrey, however, had a wicked gleam in his eyes and a strange, excited lift to his lips that made her stomach roil in apprehension.

There was something_ wrong_ with the Prince.

Started 1/29/20 (?) – Completed 2/2/20

**A/n: Yooo! Crazy times, crazy times. I'm still, to this day, not a very nice person to my protagonists. I'm sorry? XD**

* * *

**Quick Points:**

1\. **Current GoT Fics**: _Her Song of Fire and Ice_ (SansaxRoose/Stannis/Tywin), _A Red King Bowed_ (Roose/Sansa), and _March to My Heartbeat_ (Stannis/Sansa). Also _Deck the Halls_, to get started on that 'verse~

2\. Oh? Is the timeline fucked up? My bad. (cackling loudly) I do like meshing book and TV/Movie canons often, so same will probably happen here~

3\. Quarterstaff: I like it for Sansa. I know bow and arrow is the usual alternative for her, but I'm feeling like a quarterstaff could be too. We still have bow and arrows as backup, courtesy of Arya and her own way of trying to bond with Sansa, but honestly Sansa's probably a quarterstaffer~ (Hahaha, see what I did there?...Probably not…)

4\. _**Fuck moonblood. Seriously.**_


	4. Searching For a Trail to Follow Again

Disclaimer: I recently got obsessed with Game of Thrones, but doesn't mean I own it!  
Story: They say when Sansa Stark was born, she'd been touched by fire. Maybe she was, maybe she wasn't, but fire and ice seem to be in her blood. Maybe that's why her soul is damaged so much that she needed three Soulmates to hold her together? Depending on who's asked, Soulmates weren't the happily ever after of the stories Sansa hoped for, not with the men she's apparently bound to. In any case, for the rest of the world, they hope the three chosen could keep her from either burning the world down or icing it into a living level of the Seven Hells.  
Set as a gigantic canon AU with divergence as a side dish.  
Spoilers: Yeeeessss. Yes, yes, yes. Beware?  
**Warnings:** It's GoT, what do you think? And Ramsay is His Own Warning. (Hell, the Boltons are their own warning XD)  
**Pairings: **(Main) Roosa (Roose /Sansa), Stansa (Stannis/Sansa), and Tysan (Tywin/Sansa). (Side) Probably a lot of Others/Sansa (mostly one-sided though), with a focus on Jaime, Petyr, Oberyn, and Sandor. Arya/Gendry (or Jaqen H'gar…or both of them). I'm leaning towards Daenerys/Jon, but probably going to be strong hints of one-sided Dany/Sansa though.

**Her Song of Fire and Ice  
**_Chapter Four: Searching For a Trail to Follow Again_

"Uugh!" Arya made the loudest wail of annoyance and pouting. "Why'd _you_ get to go? Wouldn't your 'delicate sensibilities' be all offended or go all faint?"

"Arya," Sansa said sharply. It shut her sister up, looking at her with wide eyes. " A man died. Father lopped off his head and he died. That's not something worthy to brag about seeing."

Her younger sibling looked appropriately chastised for once.

"Sorry," she muttered. "That's not what I was meaning to say…"

Sansa softened and patted her sister's shoulder. "Yes, I know. But it really isn't something you'd care for."

Arya absentmindedly nodded, stretching her neck and looking ahead. "That's the archery range 'round the corner. I hear people up ahead and cheering."

Her sister snatched her hand up and rushed forward and Sansa inelegantly followed, stumbling over her feet at first before she managed to regain her footing. When the two girls peeked around the corner, they saw that Bran was at his archery lesson, being encouraged and advised by Robb and Theon, though he kept missing most of the time. Also surprisingly there was the King with Ser Jaime observing, and little Tommen was excitedly cheering on Bran.

"It's good of him to be learning," King Robert nodded in approval, while she and Arya overheard from above at their hidden alcove. "Blasted Joffrey can't be bothered and then whines when he can't shoot anything. Or waves around a sword, expecting everything and everyone to just fall on it for him!"

Ser Jaime's handsome face looked impassive as he answered dryly. "He's the Royal Prince, Your Grace. It is as he's grown up to believe."

The King's lip curled and he scoffed. "He acts like a godsdamned pansy."

She heard Arya snicker quietly beside her, but Sansa hid her grimace. If her betrothed's own father spoke of him as is, and his uncle implied his spoiled upbringing, it did not sound as if she would come to like her betrothed any time soon.

"Hey, Sansa," Arya whispered to her, tugging at her sleeve. "Shoot an arrow at the target."

She looked at her in askance. "What? I can't! Bran's practicing."

"So? They need to be upstaged and get shown up," Arya said stubbornly. "Hit a bullseye! No one's even looking our way, so you don't _have_ to be seen —though you should. Show them we can shoot too and we can even be better at it."

"It's different," Sansa insisted. "It's not just us —the King and his family is there."

Arya huffed. "Who cares. Come on, Sansa!"

Sansa eyed the bow and arrow Arya was trying to push her way, biting her lip. She was tempted, if only because she could see how much it made Arya happy and she also knew she liked when Sansa showed off her shooting skills, since it showed off Arya's teachings.

"Alright," she muttered, taking the bow and notching the arrow. She took a deep breath and focused, pulling back the arrow to her cheek and keeping steady. Then she let go and watched as the arrow hit bullseye. Grinning widely, she grabbed Arya's hand and started to run away as they heard commotion spreading around from where they left everyone behind.

Sansa's laughter felt like bubbling up and out of her.

* * *

When Sansa thought back to the execution, if the memory and sight of it didn't haunt her, it was the man's words. He'd sworn, even up to his last breath and right to the time his head was separated from his body, that there was a danger beyond the Wall.

The White Walkers.

It made her shiver, more so when she'd seen her father briefly worried before he'd schooled his expression into his normal somber look. The King obviously looked unphased and Joffrey had just scoffed, but the gathered Northerners were all uneasy. Sansa couldn't shake it from her own mind and ever since then, she'd been thinking about the man's words, about the existence of White Walkers, of the possible threat beyond the Wall.

The Wall where Jon had been stubbornly talking of going to with her.

She'd wanted to shake him, tell him to just stay there in Winterfell. She'd even threatened to tell Arya! She'd already spoken with Robb, but her brother had only looked pained and had told her it was Jon's decision. Well, she hated his decision.

And it was even worse now, if there were truly White Walkers around there and Jon could very well be in danger if he really went. He was family, her brother (even if that wasn't blood truth), and she had no wish to hear of him putting himself in danger there or worse —dying in the frozen lands of the Wall.

"Ugh!" Sansa hit her hand against the wall next to the bookshelf, distracted from beginning her search.

"Sansa? What are you doing here?"

Sansa stiffened up, turning hesitantly towards Old Nan and eying the old woman warily. Old Nan stared back.

For some reason, Sansa's hair —despite her mother having red hair as well —made Old Nan freak out and bring up all sorts of superstitions. Maybe it was the shade of red, maybe there really was something wrong with it that only Old Nan could see. But Sansa still was slightly scared to go near the older woman.

"You're not usually here, Old Nan," Sansa couldn't help fidget.

"I saw you come in," Old Nan blinked eerily.

Sansa's feet shifted, ready to bolt. "Um…just…looking for books."

"On what."

Old Nan always seemed to know far more than she let on. It was really creepy and Sansa never felt comfortable.

"White Walkers," she whispered, unable to to keep it to herself under Old Nan's knowing gaze.

Old Nan made a strange throaty sound, gaze not looking away from Sansa. "White Walkers come before even the Age of Heroes. They come before and created _The Long Night_. Borne of the Children of the Forest and wild magic, White Walkers were long before you and me, girl."

She blinked long and slow again, eying Sansa thoughtfully. "They'll all say White Walkers are just creatures of legend, but don't you believe them," she warned Sansa, narrowing her eyes. Her eyes moved to gaze on Sansa's long, red hair, making her flinch and want to retreat, remembering again all the times Old Nan had ranted against it and had tried to shear it all off.

And when Old Nan reached out to grab some of her hair, she nearly bolted then, if it weren't for the tight grip on her red strands.

Old Nan scoffed under her breath. "Perhaps it's best you are of fire, Sansa. Ye'll be needed in the next War of the Dawn," she said cryptically, letting go of Sansa's hair.

She turned her back on Sansa and walked away, limping a bit in her own age. Sansa let out the breath she hadn't known she'd been holding, and nearly screamed when a hand landed on her shoulder. Robb raised an eyebrow at her, though his eyes followed after the disappearing back of Old Nan.

"What was all that about?" he asked.

Sansa bit her lip. "I was…You remember that man talking about the White Walkers?"

This time both of Robb's eyebrows flew up. "What about? Don't tell me you're freaked out about them. They're just legends!"

Sansa pursed her lips. "What if they're _not_?"

Robb looked uncertain. "I don't know. I guess it doesn't hurt to read up on them," he said, looking around at the library.

She hugged him tightly. "Oh thank you, Robb!"

He rolled his eyes, patting her back fondly. "Alright, alright. Let's start going through the books. Actually, let me go see if Jon wants to help out —might interest him since he'll be going to the Wall and see these things."

"Or convince him to stay here and _not_ go to the Wall," Sansa said darkly.

"Maybe," Robb said dryly, but left her to go find Jon.

Sansa began pulling books out about the time before the Age of Heroes and had just put what she had down when not just Jon and Robb entered the library, but they'd brought along two of their royal guests. Myrcella and Tommen stood behind her brothers, looking at her shyly.

"We got stragglers," Robb grinned at her. "Princess Myrcella and Prince Tommen asked if they could help us out when they overheard me talking to Jon about looking up the White Walkers. Apparently Prince Tommen loves folklore of all kinds and Princess Mycella wanted to help out."

Sansa smiled kindly at them. "Thank you for joining us! If only my younger sister would be a little more inclined to read up on history."

"I ran across her and asked," Jon's lips twitched.

"As soon as we mentioned the library though, she claimed Septa Mordane wanted her to practice her embroidery and ran off," Robb said with a laugh.

Sansa shook her head. "Now I _know_ that's a lie. Arya would never want to practice her embroidery, even if Septa Mordane ordered her too."

"I'll tell her she missed out on 'scary, creepy stories' when I see her," Jon said in amusement, picking up a book.

"Okay, I guess it's time to get to work," Robb picked up a book as well. "We're starting with the Age of Heroes?"

"Old Nan said White Walkers were before then," Sansa told them. "So like before that time."

While Robb and Jon worked together, Tommen and Myrcella gravitated towards her more, though Myrcella was curiously (and adorably) glancing at Robb and Jon with a slight blush on her cheeks. It made Sansa discreetly smile to herself and wonder which of them Myrcella was interested in.

"Oh! I found a mention of them!" Tommen exclaimed in excitement. He got their attention and read the passage aloud, which detailed a little on how they came to be.

"Good job," Robb praised him, making him duck his head and smile shyly. Sansa agreed as well, causing his face to turn red.

"Sounds like a fairytale," Myrcella thought aloud. "A dark one though!"

"Fairytales can have basis in real life," Jon said solemnly. "Soulmates are one such proof."

"Soulmates?" Myrcella's eyes widened.

"Yes," Robb said, giving a hard look towards Sansa, who studiously ignored it. "In the North, Soulmates are real and are treasured partners. If you have a Soulmate, it is the most precious gift you can receive from the Old Gods and an acceptance from the New."

"I've heard of them!" Tommen's excitement escalated, but his words made them look at him in surprise. "I ran across them in one of the books I'd read. I even asked the High Septon about them and he was really excited to tell me all about them, though he was actually rather sad that more people didn't know or believe in them. It's not really known around the West and South, but I know that Dorne and the East have high beliefs and hopes in them. The West is also a little more interested in Soulmates, even if most don't believe."

The West! It made something in Sansa _squeeze_, like someone's hand had reached into her chest and taken her heart and just squeezed it to the point where she had trouble breathing.

Would Lord Lannister know about Soulmates then? Would he know what it meant, would he accept her? Or would he know and still reject her? Would he not care in the least?

"They occur mostly in the North, though that's not known," Robb informed the royal siblings. "It is a cherished custom and tradition of the North."

"I wish I had a Soulmate," Myrcella sighed wistfully.

"Yes, some are more lucky than others," Robb looked at her pointedly and Sansa wanted to shove her brother.

"It would be a fairytale come true," Myrcella added on, looking bashful and dreamy at the thought.

"You have the right person here to ask about that!" Jon laughed and Sansa almost looked at him in alarm. Did he know? "Sansa knows all about and loves anything to do with knights and fairytales! Her head's always in songs!"

Relieved but distressed, Sansa almost corrected him on that. _Used_ to. She used to be in love with anything to do with all of that. Now…now she knew the truth and lived in reality with everyone else. But looking upon the faces of Tommen and Myrcella, she didn't think she'd be able to completely crush their own hopes and dreams so young.

She gave them a sad smile. "I do admit to having an old fondness for tales of knights and all the romantic and fantastical fairytales."

Before she could speak more, there were several knocks on the door to the library and a semi-familiar voice spoke through it.

"Pardon the intrusion, but I was told that the Princess Myrcella and Prince Tommen were in here," she heard Ser Jaime speak.

The Stark siblings exchanged looks while both the Prince and Princess excitedly got up from their seats to greet their uncle. The door opened and Ser Jaime peered in, while the duo had reached him and greeted him happily.

Sansa gazed at him, feeling her breath falter.

This was her Soulmate's son. This was his flesh and blood and part of her already seemed to reach out and become attached.

Ser Jaime was the son of the man whose name was neatly carved into her soul and written boldly on her wrist.

* * *

Jaime idly browsed through the small sept that Winterfell held. He was, by no means, a religious man and didn't hold much faith to the Seven. It was, however, a thought that since so little others visited the sept (except for the Lady Stark, for whom Lord Stark had created the sept for), that he thought it might be a possible place for he and Cersei to engage in certain activities in with much wanted privacy.

Though quiet and empty, the windows from up high were currently letting in the sun and casting a bright light inside the sept, creating a rather beautiful glow about the place.

A soft scrape brought his attention to the kneeling figure and he winced. Not so empty after all then.

But when the person stood up, fiery hair cascaded down to fall behind her back and when she turned, the light from above cast her in a nearly unearthly sight.

Low and behold, it was almost as if he stood witness to the Maiden Reborn.

"Oh! S-Ser Jaime," her face flushed and she gave a hesitant smile to him. "I didn't know you were here."

"I'd just arrived, Lady Sansa," he gave her an easy smile, recovering smoothly as he walked slowly over to her. "I was merely curious and have been looking around your lovely home, my Lady."

Her smile became a sweetly, timid thing that actually made him want to smile honestly and goofily back. He loved Cersei, but sweet smiles from her (even for him) were rare, if they even happened at all. And this girl…this girl's smile lit up a room, brighter than even the shining sun above lit up around her.

A sudden thought entered his head and, thinking quickly, he held his hand out.

Lady Sansa had mentioned quietly sometime before of an old fondness for knights and fairytales. He didn't see the harm in indulging the girl, and playfully letting her have a knight for a moment to play pretend and have a tiny fairytale moment for herself.

"Would you do me the honor of a dance, my Lady?" he grinned widely, winking charmingly.

He could see her eyes widened and the visible hesitation, before she lightly bit her lip even as she held back a full smile that still escaped a little.

"Of course, Ser Jaime," she mockingly curtsied and lightly placed a hand in his.

Pulling her a bit closer to him, he began to lead her into a dance while he started humming. After a moment, her own humming joined his and they danced in the brightness of the sun, in the quietness of an empty sept.

Started 11/20/19 (last scene created last year) – Completed 2/29/20

**A/n: Hey yo! Sorry it's been awhile for this fic, but I ended up working more on some of my other GoT works for a bit. But I'm still also working on this! Plus, I've got a lot of this planned out already, so here's to some hopefully fun and surprising stuff! Enjoy and don't forget to leave some feedback and tell me what you liked and want more of!**

* * *

**Anon Reviews:**

1\. Guest: No worries, I am definitely continuing! I hope can surprise you with interesting ideas to come. And haha, yeah –Sansa's not fooled by Joffrey at all here~

* * *

**Quick Points:**

1\. **Current GoT Fics**: _Her Song of Fire and Ice_ (SansaxRoose/Stannis/Tywin), _A Red King Bowed_ (Roose/Sansa), and _March to My Heartbeat_ (Stannis/Sansa). Also _**The (Im)Perfect VERSE**_, including _Deck the Halls_ and now _Count Me Down to Midnight_, and now _Be Still, Heart_.

2\. Creepy Old Nan.

3\. Friendly reminder of side/one-sided pairings (coughdramaangstcough).


	5. Waited There Forever

Disclaimer: I recently got obsessed with Game of Thrones, but doesn't mean I own it!  
Story: They say when Sansa Stark was born, she'd been touched by fire. Maybe she was, maybe she wasn't, but fire and ice seem to be in her blood. Maybe that's why her soul is damaged so much that she needed three Soulmates to hold her together? Depending on who's asked, Soulmates weren't the happily ever after of the stories Sansa hoped for, not with the men she's apparently bound to. In any case, for the rest of the world, they hope the three chosen could keep her from either burning the world down or icing it into a living level of the Seven Hells.  
Set as a gigantic canon AU with divergence as a side dish.  
Spoilers: Yeeeessss. Yes, yes, yes. Beware?  
**Warnings:** It's GoT, what do you think? And Ramsay is His Own Warning. (Hell, the Boltons are their own warning XD)  
**Pairings: **(Main) Roosa (Roose /Sansa), Stansa (Stannis/Sansa), and Tysan (Tywin/Sansa). (Side) Probably a lot of Others/Sansa (mostly one-sided though), with a focus on Jaime, Petyr, Oberyn, and Sandor. Arya/Gendry (or Jaqen H'gar…or both of them). I'm leaning towards Daenerys/Jon, but probably going to be strong hints of one-sided Dany/Sansa though.

**Her Song of Fire and Ice  
**_Chapter Five: Waited There Forever_

_Screams._

_I'm sorry._

"_The things I do for love."_

_You shouldn't have been there._

"_The things I do for love."_

_Why did you have to see?_

_**The things I do for love.**_

_He loved so, so hard and why is it never enough?_

_Jaime pulled the kid up and onto the window's edge, steadying him and remembering vaguely how he watched this boy practice his archery and even giving a few pointers._

_He glanced at Cersei, who gave him a frown and nodded. He looked back at the kid and gave a charming, friendly grin._

"_The things I do for love."_

_And then he shoved Bran Stark back and watched him screaming and falling to his death._

Jaime's mind shuttered away from that scene then though, and when he recollected himself, it was to a dark room and harsh breaths that were painfully pulling out of him. He pushed himself upwards and stared blankly at the sheets pooling around his waist, trying not to think back to that scene.

Why was he feeling guilt? He knew he wouldn't have normally have felt it, especially because he knew how important it was to keep he and his sister's affair secret. Not when he loved his sister and would do anything for her, no questions asked.

But _guilt_ just _ate_ at him and he didn't know why or how to get it stop.

The scene kept replaying in his head over and over, haunting him just like the last moments before he stabbed King Aerys in the back, watching the Mad King screaming to_ "Burn them all!"_

Except now, something else was being repeated —'Burn them all' was replaced by 'The things I do for love', and it was his voice in place of a mad king's.

Jaime shivered and slipped out of his bed, looking for a wash basin to cool his heated face with. Maybe if he already got ready for the day and busied himself, his mind would stop plaguing him.

As soon as he'd cleaned up and outfitted himself with armor, not bothering for a servant, Jaime left his room and went in search of something to occupy his mind. But it was extremely early and most everyone would still be asleep, except for much of the keep's servants starting to rise (if they hadn't risen yet to start their duties).

To his surprise and a bit of horror (and no small amount of guilt), he almost ran straight into Sansa.

(He should call her Lady; he should, he really should —but he couldn't, not after that lovely dance, that special moment, that —by the Gods though, that just made everything worse, and made what _he_ _**did**_ worse, made the _guilt_ worse, made _him_ worse —)

Jaime gave her a wavering smile, inwardly recoiling from her tired form, even though she tried to inexpertly hide it. She smiled back, not as brightly as her usual but no less sincere. She shouldn't be smiling so sincerely at all, not to him.

"Are you okay?" he asked, inwardly wincing at his tact and the informal questioning.

She said nothing of his familiarity though, her smile just lifting up a little more.

"Tired, I suppose you can say," she admitted to him. "I shouldn't burden you with such things though. You are a guest here after all."

"It's quite fine, Lady Sansa," he remembered his manners quite late. "I just see that you are not looking so well, if I may say, and was worried. And, after how casual and familiar we were the last we met, I would like to think we are —or at least could be —friends." The words tasted like ashes in his mouth as he remembered what he did to her brother. Some friend he'd be.

She briefly looked surprised before utter happiness seemed to brighten her up, and she briefly touched his arm.

"I appreciate your concern and kindness, Ser Jaime. Truthfully, after Bran's fall a few days ago, Mother's been quite consumed with grief," she bit her lip. "I worry over her as much as I worry over Bran; perhaps worse so, since Bran is stable and just waiting to wake up, and nothing more can be done for him. Mother on the other hand…Meanwhile, I am also working hard to make sure Mother's usual duties do not become forgotten and am trying my best to take care of everything."

Jaime offered a grim smile. "And I believe you are."

No thanks to him though.

* * *

Ever since Bran's fall from the Broken Tower (as it had been taken to being called after Bran's accident), Sansa had been running herself ragged trying to take care of everything. Her father tried to help out, but he had to do his own duties as well as getting everything prepared to travel with his household and to head out with the King. Robb, too, could not spare much time to help her, since as he was to more or less start taking over from their father, he would need to shadow and help out their father more while he was still around.

Which left much to Sansa in regards to running the keep, keeping an eye on her younger siblings, and continuing to take care of their royal guests.

Gods knew she was exhausted and wanted to rest. But she also knew she couldn't falter, and especially in front of anyone. She had to keep up a strong front, especially in front of their guests and as the current representation of House Stark's hospitality, in lieu of her mother. And as the oldest daughter and second eldest Stark child, she had to continue to uphold their name and honor, more so given any other House because of their lineage and long history and role in the North. She wouldn't dishonor them.

She was only lucky and relived, however, to find camaraderie and peace with her Soulmate's oldest son. Jaime, only called so in her mind, was sweet and kind, and everything she'd once hoped and believed a true knight would be like; he was just like one from the fairytales, like one from her songs and dreams.

It made her wonder about her Southron Soulmate, how a man such as Tywin Lannister was reported to be, could raise someone like Jaime then. Even a son like Lord Tyrion, who was bawdy at times, but kind and polite to her, and ever so friendly —yet also exceedingly intelligent and inquisitive.

A man as cold and hard as Lord Lannister couldn't possibly be just that, with two sons like that, right? Even his daughter, the extremely beautiful Queen Cersei, was so elegant and regal that it was easy to see Lord Lannister be equally as such, but she could hardly fathom seeing his hard character in her.

All three of Lord Lannister's children were so different from what she had heard his harsh character was like, that a part of her thought that maybe in private and with family, he must be quite different!

"I am ever so curious now," she muttered, walking past the stables.

"I want you to pay your respects!"

"Why? I don't care about the wailings of women!"

She stiffened up, both in unease at her unintended eavesdropping and because she recognized the voices.

And because of what was being said.

She let the conversation run its course and then peeked around the corner to see Joffrey unhappily stomping away, back looking tense and angry while he rubbed furiously at his cheek. The Hound, a fierce but unfortunate man in her opinion, followed after the Prince stoically.

Left behind was a disappointed but also agitated Lord Tyrion, rubbing his own hand.

Ah, he must've struck Joffrey then. Sansa took a deep breath and stepped from behind the corner, catching Lord Tyrion's attention. The Imp's, as most seemed to call him, mismatched eyes widened.

"My Lady!"

"I apologize," she started quietly. "I had not meant to hear any of that, but I was indeed walking this way when I overheard your conversation with Prince Joffrey. Perhaps I should have walked away when I first heard your voices, but when my own betrothed's voice carries over and speaks ill of my family, I could not but help by still my feet," her voice turned chilly, though she didn't mean to speak so towards her Soulmate's youngest.

Lord Tyrion's eyes looked at her sorrowfully. "He is young and impetuous. Perhaps, hopefully he will grow out of it and match your own maturity, Lady Sansa."

She breathed in slowly, furrowing her brows in thought. "I would hope so," she said, thinking of her own Soulmates and the longing that suddenly sprung up in her. Maybe maturity had somehow grown in her already, but she was still young and too youthful, and most assuredly inexperienced.

A woebegone child with fanciful dreams still lingering in her head.

Her hand traveled to her wrist, the easiest of her Marks to reach without obvious notice, and held tightly.

She thought of the three and of Joffrey, and felt resigned. She gave a small smile at Lord Tyrion.

"Both he and I are young," she acknowledged. "He may yet mature into someone worthy of being King."

And when he was mature enough, she would share the secrets of her Soulmates with him and maybe the two of them could come together and he would understand her.

_(But most of her already thought that this __**boy**__-prince made something in her feel utter dread that she couldn't shake off no matter what she did.)_

* * *

Sansa was helping Arya pack, both girls quiet. They'd just found out that Arya was _not_ going to King's Landing with them, but being fostered at Bear Island. Sansa would be going with Rickon and Arya would be taken in by the Mormonts.

She turned to Arya. "What's wrong? I thought you'd be happy —you'd be less bored at Bear Island and you'll get to train like you want! And I mean _training_," Sansa gave her sister a small smile.

Arya gave her a hard stare. "We were supposed to go to King's Landing together."

"You wouldn't be happy," Sansa was bewildered. "Surely you would prefer Bear Island."

"You're going to be there with that cunt Joffrey."

Sansa stifled the unexpected laugh, looking over her sister fondly after her initial scandalized look at Arya's language. "Is that the problem? I'll be fine, Arya."

Arya scrunched up her nose. "Robb told me that because you're betrothed to that cunt, you're going to _have _to be nice to him and you have to side with him on everything. Even if he does something stupid, you can't speak against him. I think that's stupid, stupid, stupid!"

"You have a new favorite word now?" Sansa smiled, hiding her unease and upset.

Arya threw her hands up. "I'm serious, Sansa! He is the _worse_! I saw him earlier, when I was going to play with Mycah, and I saw him being an absolute arse to him! He's going to act like that towards you too."

Sansa's shoulders dropped. "He's young, Arya. He grew up like how princes most probably are used to —spoiled and used to getting their way."

"That makes no excuse and if he acts like that towards you, I'll cut his balls off!" Arya threatened violently.

Sansa's cheeks pinked, even as another unexpected laugh burst out of her. "Arya!"

"I mean it," she was stubborn. "That's why I should be coming with you. I don't trust him and I don't think he'll ever change the way he is. He's rotten to the core and always will be."

Sansa swallowed slowly, inwardly agreeing with everything her sister said. But what would she to do? Expose her Soulmates? Force them to acknowledge her? Have them know about her and reject her _publicly_?

What if they did accept her and then treated her just as badly or even worse than Joffrey? It would be more terrible than being hurt by Joffrey because these men were part of her soul, and she wouldn't be able to stand it.

Being hurt by Joffrey would be nothing compared to that.

Before Sansa could open her mouth, there was a knock on the door and Jon peeked his head in.

"'Lo, you two. I didn't expect you here, Sansa." He slipped into the room, holding a long bag. He reached in and took out a long, thin sword. "I was coming here to give this to Arya."

Sansa hid her smile, exchanging looks with Jon as Arya squealed and practically jumped on him.

"Watch it, watch it! The sword's going to stab you or me at this point, Arya!"

"Haha, quiet, Jon! Hand it over!"

Jon smiled and gently handed it over, and Arya admired it, waving it about slightly.

"This is great! Thank you, Jon," Arya beamed at him.

Jon looked over at Sansa. "Your sister doesn't want to reveal the fact she designed the sword for you and helped pay for it with me."

"Sansa!" Arya turned to her, eyes wide.

"You've always been comfortable and in love with the sword, but I thought something light and easy for you to wield would help you be faster and more maneuverable than your opponent, especially since you'd need all the advantages you could get against heavier and more experienced fighters."

This time, it was Sansa's turn to catch Arya and hold her tight, both she and Jon laughing at the younger girl.

"I'm going to call it Needle! You can have your needles, Sansa; I'll embroider the shit out of my opponents!"

Sansa rolled her eyes at her sister's suddenly boisterous, triumphant laugh that made her wish she would go to King's Landing with her.

"Speaking of lightweight, maneuverable weapons," Jon said then. He reached into the bag again and pulled out an elegantly carved quarterstaff, as crimson as the weirwood leaves in the godswood.

As Jon held it out to her and she accepted it in awe, she examined it and saw that it shared not just the red shade of the weirwood leaves, but the carvings of the leaves went up and down the quarterstaff, connected by thick curling vines that ended in snarling direwolf heads on either end of the staff. In the middle of it with the handle, she saw the classic Tully trout twined around it as an engraving. There were tiny hooks on the staff from close to one end to close to the other end, that connected a strap for her to slip the quarterstaff onto her back.

"Now _that's_ a weapon," Arya said in admiration and a bit of smugness.

Sansa looked up from it to look at Arya and Jon side by side, grinning like twins at her.

"We had fun trying to come up with something for you," Arya crowed in pride.

Jon laughed, also delighted. "You should've seen Ser Rodrik! He was bloody ecstatic to hear about the quarterstaff piece we wanted and was just as excited to help out and make it. Even swore that the wood came from the _heart tree_ itself."

Sansa wasn't sure about that, but she knew she was absolutely touched and about to get teary. To hide her silly tears, she threw herself at them this time, and they hugged each other tightly in one giant mess.

"I'm going to miss you two," Sansa cried, knowing she would and already feeling lonely at the thought of being in King's Landing without them.

Arya tried to hide her sniffle. "Whack Joffrey with that quarterstaff for me, will you?"

"I don't want to say goodbye either," Jon held onto his girls tightly and they focused on holding him back.

"I'm going to miss you, Jon," Arya hid her face against his neck.

And Sansa? She pulled back a little and the two exchanged a final look before she leaned forward and kissed his cheek firmly.

"We love you, Jon. You _are_ a Stark. Remember that."

"I will," he whispered back and he knew he would, even if he knew that he was probably descended from Targaryens too.

Because this here was his family and the only ones he'd love and cherish.

* * *

Both girls followed Jon off and saw him to Uncle Benjen, exchanging goodbyes with their uncle and final ones with Jon. They both looked on sadly as he left and then Sansa and Arya turned to each other, both girls glancing at the waiting party that was going to escort Arya off.

"You said your goodbyes to Mother and Father yet?" Sansa asked quietly.

Arya gave a huff. "Mother didn't even _want_ me to go. I would actually be agreeing with her, if only because I _should_ be going to King's Landing with you and to make sure that arse of a prince doesn't think he can do what he wants with you, like he thinks he can with everyone."

"Well, you can train with the Mormonts and become so good that you'll finally travel to King's Landing and become part of my Queensguard," she teased Arya. "Although Mother would be horrified, since it would mean you won't ever marry."

"Then that's _perfect_!" Arya looked exalted at the idea. "You're the Lady out of the two of us; I'd much rather be a Ser!"

"Ser Arya," Sansa tried it out for her sister, who started to grin wildly. "Fitting."

It made her a bit melancholy though and reminded her Arya wasn't coming with her after all. She pulled Arya into a tight embrace that she started to protest about, though they died quickly enough and she hugged Sansa back just as fiercely.

"If he touches you any wrong way, I swear," Arya muttered against her shoulder.

"And if he's King?" Sansa asked solemnly.

"Then become a Kingslayer."

Of course that'd be her sister's answer.

Then again, that answer —more than anything —made the dread rise up in her more than ever…

* * *

Sansa finished up packing her own trunks, feeling sorrow fill her as she looked around at her chambers. This would be the last time she'd see it, perhaps the last ever.

King's Landing would be her home now.

"Someone looks a little lonely," she heard Robb tease and she looked to the entrance to see Robb leaning against the door frame. "Theon would be saying his goodbyes, but I think he's really upset everyone's leaving. I think he's particularly upset about you leaving too."

Sansa felt a little disappointed, wishing Theon would have come say his goodbyes, when she wasn't sure when the next time she'd be able to see him.

Robb left his spot, closing the door behind him and heading over to her.

"One more hug from your almost twin?" Robb asked, holding out his arms.

She stepped into them and wrapped her arms around his waist as his arms enclosed tightly around her.

"We're not almost twins; you're two years older, Robb," she said in fond exasperation.

"Exactly. Hence the 'almost.'"

She laughed and was going to pull away when he held onto her and refused to let go.

"Robb?"

She felt him take a deep breath. "I'm going to miss you so much," he muttered. "I'm going to miss all of you. Winterfell won't be the same without all of you and it's going to feel different. But you…You've always been there for me and we've always been close, especially being the eldest and the ones Mother and Father counted on. A lot of the responsibilities always fell to us and a lot of times we relied on each other. It's just…Sometimes it always felt like we were _meant_ to be twins."

Sansa could feel her eyes getting watery again. "Oh, Robb…"

He squeezed her briefly. "I'm going to worry about you going to King's Landing, especially mostly on your own. Father will be busy with his new duties and Rickon will be depending on _you_. And you'll be stuck with Joffrey the Cunt."

She snorted. "Gods, _you_ were the one influencing Arya on that."

"Who says she wasn't the one influencing me?" he asked innocently.

Sansa rolled her eyes, even if Robb couldn't see her.

"Seriously though, Sansa…I don't want you to be hurt. He's _not _a good person and I know you know it. Your Soulmates…maybe you're right about them. But maybe you're wrong. Maybe _Mother's_ wrong about all of it and is too invested in her hurt and is a bad example. But then, if all she knew was the pain and hurt Father dealt her, surely they would not have had you? You were born after me, after Jon. The first child of love they had together and the child that should be a symbol that they could overcome that hurt and create someone as lovely as you."

She felt touched by his words, as much as she also could see truth in them too. Their parents went on to fall in love still, enough that she was born and then Arya, then Bran, and then finally Rickon. Even if Jon was a source of hurt, they loved each other and stayed together through it all.

"Could you not, even if I can't keep you from King's Landing, at least think on that and consider your Soulmates?"

And she thought, maybe Robb did have the right of it after all.

_Most of her was still so skeptical and wary —terrifiedworriedtinysadunsure —and knew she'd keep agonizing over this._

* * *

In just moments, she would be leaving Winterfell. There was just one more person she had to say goodbye to, someone she loved and had always admired and mostly tried to model herself after.

Lady Catelyn Stark looked haunted and tired, praying over Bran's comatose body. Her quiet sniffling echoed in the small room and Sansa took a bit of time to gaze over her mother.

"He'll wake up," she said firmly. "I know he will. He's Bran."

Bran who they all knew was Catelyn's favorite child. Bran who was reckless, fearless, and wanted to be a knight. Bran the Brave, they always teased him.

_Bran the Broken,_ her mind whispered traitorously.

Catelyn didn't even lift her head, gazing at Bran with weepy eyes.

"Arya's already gone, as is Jon. I'll be leaving with Father and Rickon now too," she said as quietly as she could, feeling like speaking louder would disturb the air.

"You're leaving?" Catelyn finally looked at her, looking at her tiredly.

"Yes," she stopped herself from biting her lip.

"I…see."

Sansa came closer and hugged her mother gently, moving over to sweetly kiss her brother's forehead. She stepped away from them and looked back at her mother, who smiled as best she could at her daughter.

"Goodbye, Mother," she said and started to move towards the door, stopping just before she was to leave. She saw her mother still looking at her and started to fiddle with her sleeve, before just holding it and looking at her mother meaningfully.

The words were stuck in her throat and she couldn't quite say it, but her mother knew regardless, older Tully eyes widening.

Catelyn gave her a sorrowed look and Sansa gave her a bittersweet smile back, giving her a nod in answer before leaving her behind.

Started 3/8/20 – Completed 3/9/20

**A/n: Welp, this keeps escalating? XD Ahh, but at least they're on the move and leaving Winterfell. Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! Would love to hear what you guys liked and what more of! Thank you guys so much!**

* * *

**Quick Points:**

1\. **Current GoT Fics**: _Her Song of Fire and Ice_ (SansaxRoose/Stannis/Tywin), _A Red King Bowed_ (Roose/Sansa), and _March to My Heartbeat_ (Stannis/Sansa). Also _**The (Im)Perfect VERSE**_, including _Deck the Halls_ and now _Count Me Down to Midnight_, and now _Be Still, Heart_.

2\. I just wanna update so I probably forgot everything that I probably should've or wanted to point out xD Quick update though this time, eh?


	6. Sleeping With Ghosts

Disclaimer: I recently got obsessed with Game of Thrones, but doesn't mean I own it!  
Story: They say when Sansa Stark was born, she'd been touched by fire. Maybe she was, maybe she wasn't, but fire and ice seem to be in her blood. Maybe that's why her soul is damaged so much that she needed three Soulmates to hold her together? Depending on who's asked, Soulmates weren't the happily ever after of the stories Sansa hoped for, not with the men she's apparently bound to. In any case, for the rest of the world, they hope the three chosen could keep her from either burning the world down or icing it into a living level of the Seven Hells.  
Set as a gigantic canon AU with divergence as a side dish.  
Spoilers: Yeeeessss. Yes, yes, yes. Beware?  
**Warnings:** It's GoT, what do you think? And Ramsay is His Own Warning. (Hell, the Boltons are their own warning XD)  
**Pairings: **(Main) Roosa (Roose /Sansa), Stansa (Stannis/Sansa), and Tysan (Tywin/Sansa). (Side) Probably a lot of Others/Sansa (mostly one-sided though), with a focus on Jaime, Petyr, Oberyn, and Sandor. Arya/Gendry (or Jaqen H'gar…or both of them). I'm leaning towards Daenerys/Jon, but probably going to be strong hints of one-sided Dany/Sansa though.

**Her Song of Fire and Ice  
**_Chapter Six: Sleeping With Ghosts_

Eddard took in the the redhead solemnly. Part of him was still unsure about this, but most of him needed the reassurance that his daughter wouldn't be alone. Arya wouldn't be there with Sansa to keep his eldest from keeping her head too much in the clouds. He'd always wanted to let Sansa continue to be her sweet, dreamy, naive self and just shelter her from the world…yet something told him she couldn't be that girl anymore.

And King's Landing put a shiver down his spine that made him reluctant to make this trip.

But Robert had asked, practically demanded he be his new Hand and that Sansa and the Prince be betrothed to one another. Another part of Eddard almost wished his daughter had gotten her wish —that she had been given a Soulmate.

Prince Joffrey's demeanor didn't inspire much confidence in him, but he _was_ still a boy yet…He hoped the boy would grow and mature.

"I thank you for agreeing to this," Eddard said, voice as quiet and serious as ever as he anchored himself to the present. The woman in front of him smiled prettily, and curtsied properly.

"Of course, m'lord. I am quite honored."

"It's 'my Lord.' Remember that you are to be a Tully cousin from my wife's side and that you are accompanying Sansa as a handmaiden," he said, trying not to let his anxiety show.

This was not a ruse he was comfortable or sure of, but Sansa needed someone to be there by her side, and especially someone who could see through the inevitable lies and manipulations Sansa would encounter in that snake pit of a city. And as he somewhat knew _of_ this woman enough because of his sons and Theon's frequent visits, he could at least be assured of her character and of her capability.

And yes, he knew Robb and Theon (and Jon at one point) had come to Wintertown to visit the brothel. He _did_ pay attention to his kids and though he may have left it almost well enough alone (aside from the strong assurance that precautions be taken at the brothel), he did not say or do anything about it or let them know he knew.

He admitted he wasn't the hovering type of parent…at least in an obvious manner.

Eddard, however, was very much always a parent that overly worried in the background, especially regarding his girls. Well, _girl_. Arya was more of a son and seemed much more capable than even his brooding Jon (who was strangely too much like him, considering…). Sansa, on the other hand…

His sweet, delicate daughter —his Firebright princess made his nerves stand on end and worry to be a permanent addition to his emotions every minute.

Which was made worse by their current situation.

If only he could've fostered her elsewhere, like Arya, instead of having to bring her with him to King's Landing…

"She's coming this way," he noted, inwardly taking a moment to compose himself so he wouldn't alarm his daughter to his distress. "Sansa, come —I want you to meet your new handmaiden."

"Ros!" Sansa blinked, looking at the 'former' whore beside Eddard.

He blinked himself and then remembered (with a mental cringe) that his daughter had set up arrangements for Lord Tyrion personally. Who would've even _thought_ a thing like that to do?

Certainly not himself or Catelyn.

He cleared his throat. "Yes, I see you know…each other. As…you know, your friend Jeyne will be taking over soon from her father on his duties in Winterfell, so she couldn't come with you to King's Landing as your handmaiden. However, Ros has agreed to come and you should remember that she is a cousin on your mother's side."

"I understand, Father," she smiled brightly, his lovely girl, and then turned her attention to 'Ros' unquestioningly. "Shall we? I was just going to see what there is to break fast right now!"

As the two females left, Eddard let out a breath. That had actually gone well. Hopefully, some of his anxiousness will be alleviated. Robb and Theon should be fine at Winterfell and Rickon was enjoying himself; Sansa would also do well looking over her younger brother and making sure he wouldn't get into too much trouble. And with her looked after…

There was also Arya, who would (hopefully) be delighted and having the time of her life, getting to do things she wanted to do and enjoy. He'd argued long and hard with Catelyn about sending Arya to Bear Island, even though initially they'd both wanted her to go to King's Landing and learn to try to be just a little more ladylike, but he was glad that he'd been able to convince his Soulmate.

But then there was Jon.

His 'second eldest'. His bastard.

His nephew in truth.

Lyanna's son.

It pained his heart to still think of his beloved sister. To remember that all he had left of her was Jon, and that if the truth ever got out, his son in all but blood would be murdered —and by his friend.

Not even Catelyn knew the truth and he couldn't tell her. It hurt her thinking Jon was his, but he also knew that the moment she knew, she couldn't keep it a secret.

Her sister would be the first to know, or someone in her family. She couldn't allow them to continue thinking he'd dishonored her and have a stain lingering on their marriage, at least to her family's knowledge, even if she promised to never tell anyone else and knew it was important that no one else knew. And somehow or other it would be spread and let known still.

And even if she would've agreed to keep it from her family, he knew that she would have at the least told her sister. Catelyn and Lysa had, at one point, been very close —at least he knew on Cat's end. His Soulmate would speak fondly of Lysa and believe in her staunchly (as she had not too long ago, as they received that letter accusing the Lannisters of a very heinous crime…), though Eddard himself thought that Lysa wasn't all there in the head. Neither did quite a few others either.

The point being though, that Catelyn would've told her (especially to vindictively show that Eddard had _not_ betrayed her after all) and which would've led to the one man closer to Robert than he knowing. As the late Hand of the King, Jon Arryn would've told Robert immediately.

And Jon would not be going to the Wall. He would not be alive for that matter.

Sometimes he felt bitter at his sister for leaving him in this predicament, for forcing him to forever deal with Robert's heartache, for creating and driving the rift between he and his Soulmate, and for Jon's ever questioning hurt over his parentage.

He was getting too old.

More so when he remembered back to his parting with Jon and the uncertainty he'd been left with.

It had sounded like Jon knew who his mother was.

"_The Wall isn't a safe place," Eddard murmured, clasping Jon's shoulder firmly. "You must be mindful and always be careful with yourself. And the cold there is much more dangerous than the cold of the rest of the North."_

"_I promise, Father," Jon muttered, looking down in embarrassment. He saw him hesitate before Jon reached up and placed his hand over Eddard's. "I want you to know I'm glad you decided to take me in, that I understand everything you have ever done for me. I know she was precious to you and you would do anything for her, and therefore for me."_

_Jon hesitated before he actually leaned in and embraced Eddard quickly, though he just as quickly stepped back._

"_I will always be a Stark," he told Eddard stubbornly. "Stark blood runs in my veins and that's the only thing that matters to me."_

_Jon gave an uncharacteristic grin that was all too reminiscent of his Lyanna, and which made Eddard's breath hitch._

"_I'd rather run with wolves anyway. I might actually be terrified of heights," he teased._

_His grin lingered as he gave a small wave, and then he was turning and heading over to Benjen, his boy's direwolf trotting behind him faithfully._

By the Gods, Eddard had realized then that Jon might have even realized who his _father_ really was.

"Ned! You look like you're about to be sick," Robert came over, chuckling at him. "Come have a drink with me!"

"It's too early to be drinking," he deadpanned, but Robert just snickered and grasped a shoulder, dragging Eddard after him.

"Bah! Never too early for me. Damn these days —back then, we were young and drank when we wanted, and damned the time. You're just getting old, Ned."

"You're getting old as well, Robert," he snorted. "And _fat_."

Robert cackled, smacking Eddard's back. "I'll say! Nothing to fucking do but eat, drink, and fuck."

He wanted to point out that there was a kingdom to run as well, but Robert would just wave him off and let the statement go over his head.

Sitting down at a table set up for the King, Eddard ignored the wine and fiddled with some fruit, still feeling his age.

"You've learned of the Targaryen bitch by now, yes?" Robert asked, looking irritable now. "And her fucking brother."

Eddard uneasily watched the King. "Yes, I've heard."

"I should send for their heads," Robert sneered.

"They'll never be able to cross the sea," Eddard pointed out. "There's no need to be so hasty. They are just children after all."

While he waited for Robert's angry rebuttal, instead he near had a heart attack when he heard Sansa's voice speak up instead.

"They're also children who've grown up angry and hating their place in life and blaming the King though," she chimed in and he turned to face her, wondering if his face reflected the shock and horror he was feeling. He hoped he looked as he normally did, but inwardly he was thinking he was going to become a mess and just fall apart.

_Why_, Sansa?

Afraid the King would lash out at his daughter, he hurriedly faced Robert. But the King only looked smug.

"See? Your daughter has sense, Ned! Let her speak. Go on, sweet Sansa. Tell me your thoughts on this."

While his daughter became flustered, he looked to Ros, who stood behind his daughter, blinking and looking lost, holding two bowls of the morning's stew. Oh. Sansa must've been trying to bring him some. What timing, he mentally pinched the bridge of his nose.

"That is…even if they're children, they know what happened to their family, to their legacy, to their parents. If they have people taking care of them, they're probably raising them to remember that and to feel hate for the King," Sansa said as gracefully as she could, though he could see his daughter's age in the way she nervously fidgeted with her hands.

"I imagine that they're _not_ without any resources over there and that no matter how long it takes, they _could_ come cross the sea. Maybe it's later, much later, and not a worry for now…but it's not a bad thing to be prepared, is it? Better to have plans in place than to be rushing to defend ourselves."

Robert grinned widely, clapping Eddard on his back. "You've got a smart one, Ned. My son's a lucky boy —he'll have a Queen that can rule better in his stead! Especially since he doesn't have much sense himself." He looked back at Sansa again. "What would you do with this situation then?"

"My lord father is right that as children, perhaps some leniency could be shown? Even if they will not acknowledge and appreciate it, everyone else and your legacy will," Sansa started diplomatically. "You could reach out, send a missive, but that guarantees nothing, especially if it gets intercepted. But it hurts nothing to try. In the meantime, perhaps you could bolster your forces and begin preparations for an invasion? With a focus on your fleet, since if they do come, it'll be on water…"

Robert blinked, though he frowned. It made Eddard wince, though he also couldn't help staring at his daughter.

Where had all this come from? Who was this girl? This was so different from the Sansa he knew —but was it really?

His little girl had always been rather responsible and had taken her duties seriously —why wouldn't she take this as seriously, especially if one thought of (if _she_ thought of) her upcoming nuptials and soon to be duties as Queen?

The whole idea of any of this made him balk and want to take his daughter back to Winterfell, hide her in its very depths and not allow anyone near her.

And with the way Robert was looking at her…

He held his breath, waiting…He was searching for the right words to say to placate Robert, to keep his daughter safe —

"Those are good words," Robert said quietly. "My brother Stannis is a good militaristic man, for all his boringness and placidness. He's Master of Ships as well and would do good with this. I'll think about this…letter, but our defense will be well tended to once I've talked to Stannis as soon as we have reached King's Landing."

While Eddard tried not to stare at his friend in shock, Sansa curtsied uncertainly and took the bowl from Ros, offering it to Eddard. He accepted numbly.

"I apologize, Your Grace," Sansa told Robert guardedly. "I hadn't known my lord father would be with you, or else I would have brought another bowl to offer you with as well."

Robert nodded and waved off her concern. "Don't worry, deerling." _Deerling?_ "Enjoy your food. Your father and I still have much to discuss."

Sansa curtsied again before she left with Ros. Robert turned back to him, reaching for his bowl while grinning widely.

"Besides, you'll share with me, won't you, Ned?"

"Yes, of course," he said faintly, still feeling bemused about this whole thing.

He ignored Robert laughing at him.

* * *

"Sansa!" Rickon whined. "I don't want to learn about the Houses!"

"You'll have to learn them," Sansa said patiently. "Mycah, you wouldn't happen to have any sweet bread with you?"

"I do, my Lady," the younger boy beamed at her, taking it out of a bag he'd held. "Thank you again for allowing me to accompany you."

Sansa smiled sweetly at him, glad she'd run across him when she had and remembered the boy from Arya. Mycah was a nice boy —part of King Robert's retinue, a baker's son that was eager to help and had agreed readily to come with them and play with Rickon. Ros sat beneath a tree, stiffly next to Lady. Shaggydog was beside Rickon, tongue lolling out and as active as his human partner.

"So every time you get one right," Sansa started. "Mycah will give you a piece of sweetened bread you can have or you can share with Shaggydog. Okay?"

At that Rickon brightened up. "Okay!"

Sansa hid her own smug smile at her success and began teaching Rickon, happy when a good chunk of time had passed and everyone was having a good time, with Rickon also doing well with his lesson. Ros had even relaxed a little more beside Sansa's familiar and both direwolves were behaving.

"What a group! I wish I'd stumbled along and found you all earlier!"

Sansa tried not to stiffen up, but she turned to her betrothed with a polite smile.

"Joffrey, won't you join us?" she asked. She should at least ask him, try to build a bridge for him, so they could have at least a civil sort of marriage…

"I would love to," he said and though he didn't look it after, she had seen his face briefly look irritable. It was gone before it could be commented on by the others, but she'd seen it and it made her wary.

She shouldn't be so wary around her betrothed, shouldn't she?

Her Soul Marks burned against her skin and she hid her shiver, discreetly reaching to her wrist and rubbing the Mark there that was hidden under her sleeve.

"Lady Sansa, I have more sweet bread, if you'd like to share it with the Prince," Mycah offered generously, and she was about to accept when Joffrey sneered and stepped towards the other boy menacingly.

"How dare you talk to my betrothed, peasant? And as if I want your poor-tasting bread! It's probably as poorly made as you!"

"…_He is the __**worse**__! I saw him earlier, when I was going to play with Mycah, and I saw him being an absolute arse to him! He's going to act like that towards you too."_

She tentatively touched his shoulder. "My Prince, it's my fault. I brought him along because I enjoyed his bread —"

The smack to the side of her face had her reeling, both in shock and from the actual hit. She'd stumbled back, but it was the surprise shout of Mycah and her brother that jolted her back to her sense, enough to see Mycah staunchly put himself between her and Joffrey while Rickon had rushed to her and was grasping at her arm.

"Sansa, Sansa, are you okay?" Tears blurred Rickon's eyes.

"I —" she didn't know what to say. She hadn't expected that at all, but part of her felt maybe she should've.

"You peasant! Move out of the way! She is _my_ betrothed!"

"I-I won't! Not if you're going to hit her again!"

Ros was beside her as well, gently holding her face to examine it and looking furious, with Lady brushing up against both of their legs in comfort.

"Idiot boy!" she muttered. "If he wasn't the Prince…"

But Gods, he _was_…Sansa's hands twitched to grab her quarterstaff and do as Arya had asked, smack him back, but there were so many others around her to be punished, even if she wouldn't be…

"I hate you! I won't let you near my sister! Shaggydog!"

She blinked and whipped her head towards Rickon, who she hadn't realized had left her side and was angrily confronting Joffrey, letting his emotions cloud him like the child he was.

"Rickon, no!" she shouted, but Shaggydog had already rushed forward and bit down on Joffrey's arm, the one that had been holding a sword (when had he pulled that out?).

Joffrey shouted in pain and Sansa was horrified how the situation had escalated. As Joffrey howled, Sansa ran to Rickon.

"You have to call off Shaggydog," she pleaded. "Please, Rickon. We're in enough trouble —he'll have Shaggydog killed!"

Rickon stared at her in tearful shock, calling off his direwolf reluctantly.

"You have to make him go!" she said in a rush. "Even if he's not with you, Rickon, at least he'll live. Tell him to go!"

Rickon bawled as the Prince ran off from them, and her brother stumbled towards Shaggydog as Lady followed Sansa towards Mycah, who was being looked over by Ros.

"He'll be fine," Ros whispered to her.

He was a little banged up, but the baker's boy smiled at her weakly and nodded to confirm. Oh Gods, he'd only just been trying to protect her! They all had been! What a mess this had turn into…

Why couldn't Joffrey had stayed away?

She watched as Shaggydog finally rushed from them and her brother began bawling out loud, ugly tears. She moved towards him to gather him up and started to lead him back to the camp.

As soon as they reached it, Sansa had Lady wait by the area that had been set up for the direwolves to stay at. Then they were herded into the biggest tent, where they were surrounded by so many people and face to face with the King. Sansa's insides felt frozen and she swore she'd throw up then and there. Then she'd be even more horrified.

"What in the Seven Hells happened?!" King Robert roared. "And stop crying like a pansy!" he glared at his son.

Rickon sniffled and opened his mouth, but Sansa's hand immediately flew to grab his arm, squeezing it warningly.

"It's all been a misunderstanding," she said carefully. "What happened was —"

"He hit Sansa!" Rickon said shrilly, jabbing a finger at Joffrey.

Rickon was young; of course he'd be emotional.

"Mother told me to never hit a Lady, but Father also says that I need to keep people in line and show their place!" Joffrey hissed, glaring at them.

She saw Queen Cersei gain a pinch look on her face, while King Robert's face grew stormy.

Sansa cut in. "It was a misunderstanding," she could not have Rickon be punished. Not her sweet, little brother, who she was supposed to look over and take care of. Not Ros, who hadn't done _anything_ wrong but be there. And not Mycah, who was just trying to protect her.

She repeated it firmly. "It was a misunderstanding and my fault," she had to emphasize that so none of the blame was shifted to the others, and because she knew she could take the punishment because of her status. They couldn't.

"Rickon needed to learn his lessons and I was helping him, and I'd brought along the baker's boy to have sweet bread as incentive for him and his familiar. My sweet Prince," 'sweet' tasting like syrup gluing her mouth together, "misunderstood the baker's boy's presence, I think. Rickon got emotional and upset, like the young boy he was," she said, hopefully as a reminder and for leniency, "and the baker's boy believed he was protecting me." Which was the truth, and she had to keep reminding herself not use Mycah's actual name, so she wouldn't show any familiarity.

There was terse silence and Sansa chanced a look at her father finally. His face was its normal grimness, but his eyes…for once they looked stormy and revealed a flurry of emotions.

"I see," King Robert said slowly. "I will be having a talk with my boy." He laughed stiffly. "Us Baratheons have a possessive streak though! Forgive our heated blood."

"But Joffrey's arm!" Queen Cersei interrupted. "Our son has been hurt! Something must be done —the boy's wolf should be put down!"

Sansa stiffened up, even as Rickon burst into sobs and was screaming out 'no's!' She gave a look to Ros, who nodded to her and took up Rickon, quietly shushing him.

"Rickon's direwolf ran away," Sansa said quickly.

"There's still one wolf left," Queen Cersei was still upset.

Sansa could feel the blood drain from her face as she gasped. _No_. Not Lady!

"You can't!" She found herself being the one unable to keep composure. "Not Lady! Please, no! Not Lady! She didn't _do anything_!" she pleaded. Her father closed his eyes and looked away.

King Robert cleared his throat. "Let it be a lesson of themselves and all around them, no matter who or what they may be."

"If anyone is to do it, I will," her father replied tensely and Sansa felt tears blind her.

"Please excuse me," Sansa said, throat feeling clogged with emotion. "I shall be in my tent."

She barely noticed she was dismissed, taking Rickon from Ros and heading away from there and towards the tent she shared with Rickon and Ros. She entered and collapsed onto the floor, dragging Rickon with her.

Terror rushed through her. They were going to kill Lady —Lady who had done nothing wrong except to stay obediently when Sansa had told her to at her spot —and was now stuck there and easy prey to be executed!

It wasn't fair! Rickon and Shaggydog had just been playing around and they were having a good time! And then Joffrey had come along and decided that-that —she didn't even know why he had reacted the way he did!

Her sobs caught in her throat and she and Rickon clung to each other, crying and unable to move from their spots. Ros sat beside them, petting their hair and murmuring something.

"My Lady? It's me, Jaime Lannister."

"S-Ser Jaime," Sansa hiccuped, but could not bring herself to stop crying.

The opening flap was pulled and Jaime stuck his head in, looking down at the crumpled trio. A look she didn't recognize passed over his face.

"I wanted to check on you," he said softly. "And I've brought dinner. I'm sure the three of you are hungry."

He reached down by his feet and picked up a tray to hand to Ros, who held it for the group. He hesitated before he stepped in and sat down by them, folding in his long body awkwardly, especially with his Kingsguard armor.

"Does it hurt?" he asked, reaching out and fingers lightly brushing against the side of Sansa's face.

She flinched and his fingers retreated quickly.

"I'll mix up an ointment to help," Ros said politely when Sansa didn't answer and had looked down, the older woman watching him carefully with narrowed eyes.

"I see," Jaime muttered, glancing at her and Ros. He looked at his lap.

"Is Mycah okay?" Sansa sniffed, wiping her eyes.

"The baker's boy?" he asked after a moment. He gave another pause. "He ran off as well."

Sansa felt horrible. She hadn't wanted to cause Mycah any trouble.

"It's for the best," Jaime said. "What he did was admirable and understandable, but he still…attacked the Prince."

"He did not!" Rickon said hotly. "The Prince beat _him_ up, even though all he did was stand in his way so he wouldn't go after Sansa!"

"He's still the Prince," she said hollowly, which made her mind scream. Her Soulmates wouldn't treat her like this, would they? They wouldn't, right?

_But what if they did?_

Jaime's pretty green eyes, light as the green of grass on a spring day, watched her intently. He spoke softly and she thought she'd imagined it.

"I once served a Queen who was mistreated by her King. In fact, I still do. And I don't want the future to be the same."

He bowed slightly. "Lady Sansa, I wish you a happier life."

He left them behind and Sansa stared after him silent and solemn.

* * *

He'd lied. He'd lied about the baker's boy because he'd already seen the way Sansa had pleaded and then grieved after her direwolf.

Jaime couldn't tell her the Hound had run the boy down and killed him.

Instead, he'd lied and told her the boy had run away and had saved his own skin. Better alive than here and being punished.

Not dead, like the truth.

Hearing her cries outside her tent was like an echo of a long time ago, when he had to listen to Queen Rhaella crying out behind her doors.

Jaime couldn't do that again. He couldn't, especially since he was doomed to have a repeated performance every time he listened to Fat Bob degrade his sister and sleep with whores every night.

He was tired of serving selfish, depraved Kings.

Sansa's life had already become upended the moment they entered her life; Jaime knew that, because he had become part of the problem and hoped she would never find out about her other younger brother and Jaime's fault in his fall. He couldn't be part of her direwolf's death too.

That meant that he'd had to hurry and let the direwolf loose and run it off, before Ned Stark could break his daughter's heart and kill her pet. Jaime wanted to try to save some part of her from heartbreak.

If only he could make sure she didn't continue on to King's Landing as well…

* * *

Robert felt his skin itching. It wasn't a real itch where he could scratch at it until it bled. No, it was the kind that got _under_ his skin and he couldn't get to it no matter what he did.

The large party of people continued the last stretch towards King's Landing, but Robert was in a bad mood.

Ned looked pissed and was staying with his own camp, which put Robert in a worse mood because he was stuck with all these cunts around him and unable to talk with his only friend.

And then there was that monster of a wolf having disappeared before Ned could put it down, putting Cersei in a snit (which made Robert's mood even more sour, having to deal with her). And he knew Ned hadn't let it go because he'd followed after him, inwardly hoping he could 'accidentally' scare the thing off and the whole thing be given up as a lost cause. Except no wolf.

He knew the girl or her brother had nothing to do with it, having been confirmed by many witnesses as having stumbled in a crying mess to their tent and personally confirmed by that Lannister cunt, who'd followed after them.

Wolf must've sense the air and escaped, just like the boy's wolf. Good for them, but that didn't help Robert any.

Aside from Ned and Cersei, his future good-daughter's heartbreaking expression made him feel like a bastard.

It was like disappointing Lyanna all over again.

Years after her death and Robert couldn't let her go. He'd loved Lyanna until all of the Seven Kingdoms had felt it, until death and blood and tears and anger was all that he could surround himself with —and it still wasn't enough.

The last he truly could remember of her face was a blurry outline of disappointment and heartbreak at knowing he'd fathered a bastard child in the Vale, despite his claims of love. He couldn't remember her face anymore, but he could still remember that moment, that feeling. It had never left him.

Now, now it was happening all over again. After he'd finally gotten what he'd wanted —uniting his family with Ned's and a Stark and Baratheon marriage! It was not him, but his son at least. But now it was falling apart and now Ned was requesting to talk to him at King's Landing and Sansa, sweet darling girl, was folding in on herself and not talking to anyone.

"This is all just a pathetic mood. I don't understand what all the fuss is about?" Cersei drawled, her aged beauty stained by the mild disgust painting her face.

Robert's jaw clenched.

Ignoring her, he turned towards Cersei's twin, watching the Kingslayer trotting along on his horse next to them.

"You checked in on the girl, didn't you?" Robert grunted. "How was she?"

That idiot boy of his…striking Ned's daughter. He'd been tempted to strike him back, in payment for striking Sansa. His good-daughter shouldn't be treated this way! She was to be a Baratheon, Joffrey's wife. It was unforgivable.

She was to be the Queen that Lyanna hadn't been able to have been.

"Distraught," Lannister said quietly, watching Cersei guardedly. "She…she and her brother were crying together."

_Damn_ the Gods.

If he'd married Lyanna, he would never had struck her. He would've been happier with his lot in life, even though he was stuck being the damn King. He would've had children that he cared for —not that he didn't love them, but Joffrey was a menace and tested his every nerve. His younger children were sweeter and he adored them more, though Tommen was a little too soft…

But Lyanna's children with him would have been perfect.

Because he loved her in a way he would never love Cersei, and he'd sworn he would have the Stark family love him and his family in the way it was always meant to be if Lyanna had been his.

King's Landing came into view and he huffed out a sigh of relief.

"Finally," Cersei drawled. He gritted his teeth and rode farther ahead.

Gods _damn_ his wife and son.

And now that the entire company between he and Ned's people had arrived, the all too solemn mood was noticeable and Robert cursed every deity he could. This wasn't what he'd wanted and planned for.

They'd all managed to enter the city and gone to the palace, with enough time for everyone to have handled settling in on their own and finding their rooms, when Ned had called upon Robert and all he could do was curse more in his head. He'd curse more outside too, if he wasn't getting ready to face his friend.

"Robert…I do not believe the betrothal is a good idea. I refuse to have Sansa wed your son. I want the betrothal broken," Ned said firmly, not looking away from Robert.

"I'm the King," Robert growled. "And I wish for the betrothal."

"And Sansa is my daughter! I will not have her treated that way," Ned actually shouted.

Robert grimaced. "And I will make sure that Joffrey learns his lesson," he insisted. "Sansa will have nothing to worry about."

Joffrey had better learn. He wouldn't have him treat the girl that way.

"Be that as it may, I still wish for it to be broken," Ned refused to waver. "At this time, your son is not fit or mature enough to be with Sansa. You wouldn't want Princess Myrcella to be treated like that, would you?"

Robert glowered at his friend. "Of course I wouldn't!" Just the thought made his blood boil. But breaking the betrothal…He grimaced again. "Fine. Let me work on Joffrey in the meantime and come back to the betrothal at a later point at least."

Ned didn't look happy about that. "Very well. We can revisit at a later point. But as the betrothal is broken now, if I find a more suiting suitor, I _will_ be considering them closely."

"Yes, yes," Robert answered irritably. "Go set things up for you and your household —you'll have lots to do, I assume."

Ned nodded and left, leaving Robert to glare at his desk. He opened the box he'd brought with him from Winterfell, intending to get drunk, and stared in consternation at the wreath of blue Winter Roses. He swallowed thickly and carefully picked it up.

Lyanna had loved Winter Roses.

Standing up, he walked out of the room and went searching. After searching and asking directions discreetly, he found the correct chambers and knocked, only entering once he heard her say he was allowed.

He opened the door to Sansa's assigned chambers and watched the girl gracefully flit around the room with her handmaiden helping. She turned towards the door and stopped in shock.

"Your Grace!"

"Your aunt loved Winter Roses and I had these picked from the glass gardens at Winterfell," he said gravely. "I hear you love flowers as well, Lady Sansa."

"I do," she said.

One side of his lips quirked up halfheartedly and he held the wreath up to her.

"I believe it'll be lovelier on you than to be stuck dying in my trunk, forgotten and ill used."

She hesitantly glided over on light feet, taking hold of them. He took one of her hands before she could take the wreath away and looked into her eyes. They were as blue as the Winter Roses and he wondered if he could recall the color of Lyanna's eyes if he tried hard enough.

"I am sorry, for what it's worth," he muttered. He didn't specify on what and she still gave him the sweetest smile.

He had loved Lyanna for over fifteen years and had held onto her memory since even before her death. She was gone, he knew.

But now, there was still yet a Stark woman here to be appreciated.

It was the least he'd owed the love of his life, wherever Lyanna's soul rested…

Started 3/21/20 – Completed 3/23/20

**A/n: Shit, I didn't expect this chapter to become as long as it did…This was not fun to edit ;-; That said, I hope you guys ended up enjoying the larger than normal chapter? Please leave some feedback and let me know what you're all excited/want to see, what you like, etc! Thank you all to my readers and I hope you guys keep reading~**

* * *

**Quick Points:**

1\. **Ros**: Because I want Ros to be the Doreah to Sansa's Daenerys? XD Except, you know, without the show version!Doreah's backstabbing. Plus, I kind of liked how in the show Ros was kind of protective and mindful of Sansa in King's Landing…

2\. **Robert**: …Shrugs? Eh? Dunno, I knew I wanted to write him in here like this, but didn't think I'd end all that in depth and super into his head XD I don't know how well I was able to do that? But it was fun and I just…Dunno. Just like Robert/Lyanna. The way he talked about her in the beginning episodes got to me and then on youtube I had the luck to run across a really fantastic made edit of them, so…

3\. **Current GoT Fics**: _Her Song of Fire and Ice_ (SansaxRoose/Stannis/Tywin), _A Red King Bowed_ (Roose/Sansa), and _March to My Heartbeat_ (Stannis/Sansa). Also _**The (Im)Perfect VERSE**_, including _Deck the Halls_, _Count Me Down to Midnight_, _Be Still, Heart _and tomorrow _Drinks on Me, Beads on You_.


	7. My Kingdom Come

Disclaimer: I recently got obsessed with Game of Thrones, but doesn't mean I own it!  
Story: They say when Sansa Stark was born, she'd been touched by fire. Maybe she was, maybe she wasn't, but fire and ice seem to be in her blood. Maybe that's why her soul is damaged so much that she needed three Soulmates to hold her together? Depending on who's asked, Soulmates weren't the happily ever after of the stories Sansa hoped for, not with the men she's apparently bound to. In any case, for the rest of the world, they hope the three chosen could keep her from either burning the world down or icing it into a living level of the Seven Hells.  
Set as a gigantic canon AU with divergence as a side dish.  
Spoilers: Yeeeessss. Yes, yes, yes. Beware?  
**Warnings:** It's GoT, what do you think? And Ramsay is His Own Warning. (Hell, the Boltons are their own warning XD)  
**Pairings: **(Main) Roosa (Roose /Sansa), Stansa (Stannis/Sansa), and Tysan (Tywin/Sansa). (Side) Probably a lot of Others/Sansa (mostly one-sided though), with a focus on Jaime, Petyr, Oberyn, and Sandor. Arya/Gendry (or Jaqen H'gar…or both of them). I'm leaning towards Daenerys/Jon, but probably going to be strong hints of one-sided Dany/Sansa though.

**Her Song of Fire and Ice  
**_Chapter Seven: My Kingdom Come_

It was just all a fucking disaster. Robert hated this fucking life, he hated his fucking wife, he hated his son, he fucking hated _being a fucking king_.

"Get me more wine, boy!" he snapped at the blond shit that was serving as his squire. Another Lannister. This place was fucking filled with Lannisters.

"Y-yes, Your Grace!"

Robert watched his squire scurry off irritably before turning to his guard. Barristan Selmy was a man he could count on.

"If you were to apologize and make a girl happy, what would you gift her?" he asked shortly, still irritable.

Ser Barristan looked uncertain, a quick grimace appearing on his face.

"It's not like that!" he snapped at him, becoming more irritable. "My soon to be good-daughter," because he wasn't giving up on that, "is upset. Joffrey decided to…upset her. So I need to find something to give to her to make sure she's not unhappy." Of course he'll make sure to pretend it's from Joffrey, so the two would reconcile soon.

"Well…I hear young girls like pretty trinkets," Ser Barristan suggested unsurely. "I suppose it also depends what was the grievance was as well."

Robert also blanched at that. A lot of things went wrong. But…

"He hit her and the whole thing ended up with her pet wolf running away and barely escaping execution."

"…Pet wolf?"

"It's a long story," he grunted, though he watched his guard's jaw clenched. Ah, he wouldn't be happy about Joffrey's actions either.

"I suggest something more than a pretty trinket then, Your Grace," Ser Barristan said with calm and politeness.

Robert inwardly snorted. Ser Barristan's face was entirely blank, which he knew meant he wasn't happy at all.

"To hell with it," he muttered to himself. "_I'll apologize to her_." Someone in his godsdamned family has to.

Shit, if she wouldn't marry Joffrey, there was Tommen? Too fucking young, but still.

…There was Renly. Or Stannis.

_Someone_ in his fucking family was going to marry Sansa and make her a Baratheon or when he died, he was going to come back from the grave and fucking haunt every single one of them!

"Ned's never going to let her marry Joffrey at this rate," he bemoaned. He'd already screamed the hell out of his son's ears already and for once Cersei hadn't opposed him. Still, he doubted it'll work.

He had suspicions about Renly. He didn't want Sansa stuck in that kind of marriage. He didn't want to stick her with Stannis either, that was just cruel. Plus, his brother was married!

Speaking of Stannis…

"He should be arriving today," Robert mumbled to himself. "Stannis is always prompt and I sent out those ravens from Winterfell as soon as Ned agreed to be Hand…The tourney should be starting in a week after all."

"About that, Your Grace —" Ser Barristan started, but they were interrupted by knocking.

Ned was announced and the man came striding in, looking too contrite for Robert's tastes.

"Robert, what's this about a tournament?" Ned's face looked even more aggrieved.

Robert huffed. "You're going to be my new Hand! And your family has come with you; well, two of your children —one of which will be my good-daughter. Or my good-something. Ned, don't rule out a marriage to my family! My family will be good to Sansa and she'll be a bloody good Baratheon."

Ned gave him a strange look, but Robert was set on this. He'll make it happen somehow.

"We don't need a tournament though; nor can we afford one," Ned grimaced. "I just met with your Small Council and did you know the Crown is in debt?!"

Robert scowled. "Littlefucker is charge of that. He should have things handled."

"But —"

"Don't worry about it," Robert insisted. "The tournament has already been announced and ravens sent weeks ago. I was still in Winterfell even! There's no use backing out now, especially since preparations have already begun. Right, Selmy?"

Ser Barristan glanced between him and Ned, giving Ned a nod (that Robert pretended wasn't resigned, and ignored the apologetic look).

"His Grace is correct, Lord Hand," Ser Barristan said. "We have been preparing since before your arrival."

Ned sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Then is there any way we can cut costs?"

"I will see to it, if we can, Lord Hand," Ser Barristan offered.

"I want to hold a meeting with you and the Small Council," Robert turned serious, catching the other two off guard. "When Stannis arrives today, I will want to talk about what to do with those dragonspawn across the sea."

"Of course, Your Grace," Ned said formally. "I'll inform the others."

"Have your daughter attend," Robert added, almost forgetting. That made Ned stop short, looking at him in surprise. "She _did_ make very valid points and I would like to have more input regarding them, and explaining away things to the others. It'll be good practice for her when she's Queen."

Not that Queens usually did much in these matters or attended these meetings…but Sansa wasn't Cersei and she was very intelligent for her age.

"The betrothal —" Ned brought up and Robert interrupted quickly.

"Yes, I know. Broken," Robert grumbled. "For now. But she's still the best candidate to be Joffrey's Queen, so it wouldn't hurt for her to learn the ins and out of politicking in this hell hole, eh? I certainly hate it. Just…don't tell her or anyone yet about the broken betrothal. I've not informed Cersei or Joffrey yet, and I think it's best to…wait."

Gods, the _fit_ Cersei would throw. And Joffrey's incessant whining…

And though he loved Myrcella and Tommen, they were already excited about Sansa joining the family and had attached themselves to her from the start, leaving them to be heartbroken if they heard of their brother's idiocy and that it had caused the betrothal to be broken.

"Let me handle things first," Robert said vaguely, waving a hand dismissively.

Ned looked skeptical, but he was just going to have to damn deal with it.

* * *

"Milady," Ros spoke up. "Perhaps we should let your hair be braided and hung over one side of your shoulder?"

"My shoulder?" Sansa asked.

"I've only just recently learned a few of the simpler Southron hairstyles on the journey here, but I promise I'll learn more while we're in King's Landing," Ros said before hesitating. "And it will cover your Mark easier."

Sansa's hand flew to her neck as she looked at Ros and stared at her handmaiden in shock and horror. She couldn't believe herself! She'd been so careless in what she thought was the privacy of her room and had forgotten all about what it would mean to have a handmaiden there with her. It was lucky that she had yet to receive the other handmaidens that were to be appointed to her!

"Don't worry, Lady Sansa," Ros held up her hands. "I serve _you_. Your lord father brought me to serve _you_. I'm here for you and to keep _your_ secrets."

Sansa still watched her, wary but also in wonderment. She didn't know why Ros was being so loyal, but she could tell the other was actually sincere.

When she nodded, Ros began to deftly braid her hair. "Later, once I've retrieved what I need, I'll mix a palette of paints to match your skin, so you can hide it without needing to rely on your hair or the high collar of one of your dresses."

"Thank you," Sansa whispered and Ros just smiled at her through the reflection of the looking glass.

"What are you planning to do today?" she asked her.

"Besides avoiding the Crown Prince?" Sansa said dryly. "I'll take Rickon and have him get used to the keep, perhaps explore around the courtyard. I believe I saw some children there earlier? Maybe he'd like to have some playmates for the day."

"Let me find you a fitting dress then," Ros said, first placing the wreath of Winter Roses on top of Sansa's head, finding hairpins to secure it into her hair. "How about Stark gray to match the blue of your eyes and the roses, and not push too much of the blue on you?"

"Oh, that sounds lovely," Sansa said, agreeing again once Ros retrieved a suiting dress of the color.

She finished getting ready and then headed out to find her brother, Ros following behind with a bag of things they might need.

After finding her brother and taking him with her, they made it to the courtyard, where there were indeed plenty of children around.

"Oh, oh, Sansa! Can I go play with them?" Rickon asked excitedly.

She smiled fondly at him, brushing back his hair. He leaned into her touch and her smile widened.

"Go on then. Have fun," she let him go, following sedately behind him.

She looked around, frowning as she saw all of the children that _were_ there. There was quite a few and they were also poorly dressed and dirty. One of them ran into her, apologizing profusely after.

"It's okay," she smiled kindly at him. "What's your name, sweetling? Mine's Sansa."

She felt so sad about the state of the children, reminded of her own little brothers. If they had ever suffered like this and had no one to take care of them…

"I'm Arthur," he smiled back at her. "You just came, right? You look so pretty!"

She giggled and blushed. "Why thank you, good Ser!" she winked at him.

Arthur bowed before running off and Sansa's smile faltered.

"It's good to see such kindness, my Lady," someone said and she turned to face the speaker, feeling Ros shuffle closer to her.

"He's just a child," Sansa noted sadly. "There's so many of them here! Are there not any orphanages to house and take care of them?"

"Unfortunately, my Lady, there is only the one and it is overcrowded as is," he bowed. "Forgive me, my Lady, for not introducing myself. I am Lord Varys, Master of Whispers of the Small Council."

"Oh!" Sansa hadn't expected that. "I'm Sansa of House Stark, daughter to Lord Eddard and Lady Catelyn Stark," she formally introduced herself, curtsying. Ros followed her example, but seem to stick even closer to her side.

"Ah, the new Lord Hand's daughter," Lord Varys respectfully nodded.

"If there's such shortage of space for the children and only one orphanage, perhaps I could bring it up to the King? It's such a shame to have them just suffer out in the streets. They're just children!" At that, Sansa became filled with determination. If it had been Bran or Rickon, she would want some way for them to be taken cared of, if the Gods should decide the rest of the family be incapable of doing so. "Yes, I will make sure to bring it up to him and see if there's anything I can do!"

Lord Varys looked surprised before he seemed delighted at her declaration. "Well then, I _must_ offer my services, Lady Sansa. If anything can be done, please count on me as an ally in your endeavor! It is quite a worthy one and I support it fully."

Sansa practically beamed at him, so pleased with this encounter and the goal she'd found for herself. She would also be far away from Joffrey, who she doubted would want anything to do with this.

"Lady Sansa, there you are!"

She turned away from Lord Varys, to meet someone new but who she could spot and distinguish a mile away. None other than Ser Barristan Selmy came striding towards her and bowed, which she reciprocated with a curtsy.

"Ser Barristan! What can I do for you?" she asked, obviously catching him off guard.

"His Grace has asked me to watch over you for the time being, and of now, if you were inclined, to escort you around the market," he said politely.

She was surprised by the offer and thought she should thank King Robert later. Though he was certainly not the king she expected, not from her father's stories of the man, he was still kind and good to her.

"That would be lovely!" she smiled widely at him. "Lord Varys, would you like to accompany us?"

"Certainly," he smiled, though it seemed a strange smile. "I would love to accompany you."

Sansa was quite pleased with acquainting herself to two new friends and went to retrieve her little brother, thinking he'd like to see more of their new home.

* * *

Varys, as soon as she appeared, already knew who she was the moment she appeared in the courtyard. With her hair as bright as the sun, it was impossible to miss the newly arrived Lady Sansa.

Then he saw her communicating with one of his birds and he was oh so intrigued! He couldn't help himself in coming over and talking with her, and found himself very, very intrigued then. And more so, curiously pleased with her and allowing himself to enjoy in her sweet nature.

Hearing her come up with her little project was an acute pleasure and more over a surprise. A delightful surprise that he wanted to help with —not only given it would impact his little birds, but also because of the surprising, selfless gesture from her. Kindness and selflessness were rare things indeed, in King's Landing.

As they traversed the market, his eyes lingered on the wreath of Winter Roses around her head, uneasily remembering the last time he'd seen a wreath of those roses on a pretty young woman's head.

Lyanna Stark, depending on who was asked, was an enchanting beauty, wild and untamed.

And who had ensnared Prince Rhaegar to the point a war was started on her behalf.

Yet, here now was another Stark beauty —undeniably beautiful —and who could ensnare who she wanted and he feared for a war starting on _her _behalf. Varys already knew something was brewing in the horizon, but he could not have another Robert's Rebellion on his hands.

"Oh! Lord Varys! Look at that lovely harp! I loved learning it in Winterfell —my lord father found someone who played it and was visiting us at the time, and I learned to play it then," Lady Sansa said and the merchant heard her, brandishing the elegant harp for her.

"My Lady! Would you care to play it?" the merchant held the medium-sized harp out and Varys watched her eagerly accept it, settling herself down on the edges of a fountain.

And then she played and Varys was struck by another, _different_ comparison.

Though she wore Winter Roses like a crown, she played and captured her audience like a young man he once knew —a young man he swore would have been a great King and a beloved ruler, before he foolishly threw it all away for a young woman.

Rhaegar Targaryen once roamed these streets and played for the common folk, and it was like seeing him again as he watched Lady Sansa play beautifully for these very same people. _Some_ of which had lived then and remembered the Silver Prince.

He played and made them cry with the beauty of his sorrow, but she played and made those around cry with the beauty of her spirit.

And Varys remembered that he served the good of the people and that he always would.

* * *

Barristan stood by his King silently, doing his duty as was bestowed to him a long time ago, faithful to it no matter the King. As King Robert drank and commiserated over a piece of paper, he stood there on watch and contemplated the recent happenings.

Why on earth would the King want a young girl to attend the Small Council meeting? What would her opinion matter in such things?

And that King Robert would be so adamant in actually apologizing to her? Never something he'd seen from him!

And what was this about the betrothal between the Crown Prince and Lady Sansa being broken?! The betrothal was just announced! What on earth had happened on the way here? It must've been very recent, if time to disperse new ravens to announce the broken betrothal wasn't enough.

"Selmy," King Robert said loudly. "I want you to find Lady Sansa! You're to watch over her today and see if she wants to go out of the palace and have a look around her new home. If she wants something, get it for her," he was ordered.

Barristan blinked, staring at his King. Was he serious?

Frowning, he bowed and went to follow his new orders, finding the young woman outside with Lord Varys. He stopped short, watching her and freezing at the sight of the Winter Roses crowning her head.

Gods, those _blasted roses_. Blue as frost, pretty in their coldness, and once gracing the head of another Stark beauty.

Clenching his jaw, he strode forward and interrupted them, only surprised when she seemed to already know who he was. Wondering at that, he stood there uncomfortably, staring into her eyes and reminded of another young woman —just not the one he thought he'd be reminded of.

Lady Sansa's eyes were as blue as the Winter Roses gracing her head, but instead of the usual grim look of the Starks or even the mischievous ones of Lady Lyanna's. No…for some reason, with the light in her eyes, the happy emotion, and yet the haunted edges…

Why were they reminding him of his beloved Ashara, instead of the late Lyanna Stark?

They did not have the same color at all, but they were laughing in joy and sweet with emotion. It made him shiver and he was quick to focus on leading them towards the market.

And then yet another ghost was visited upon him and he watched Lady Sansa charm the people with the harp, just like a young man he used to watch over.

Prince Rhaegar always did love his harp more than the sword.

"Are you alright, Ser Barristan? You look quite pale," Lord Varys noted quietly.

"I'm fine," he said, taking a deep breath. "Too many ghosts have been appearing."

"Yes. I see what you mean."

He looked to Lord Varys immediately, but the man was watching Lady Sansa solemnly.

Gods knew what was going on, but something in him said something was going to happen and change things.

Barristan couldn't say if that change would be a good thing.

* * *

They were heading back when her father found them, glancing curiously at the two men at her side. Rickon had run forward and happily hugged his father's legs, while Sansa waited patiently. When Ned reached to her, she grasped his hand and held tight, enjoying the small smile he gave her and returning it with a wide one of her own.

"I see you two have been enjoying King's Landing. Thank you for accompanying them, Ser Barristan, Lord Varys," he spoke to the two men slightly behind her after addressing her and Rickon.

"It is no problem, Lord Hand," Lord Varys bowed. "I was just acquainting myself with your delightful children. Please excuse me, however; there are certainly things I must do." He bowed again and left them, leaving just the knight and Sansa's family there.

"His Grace asked that I watch over his daughter and to show her around the market today," Ser Barristan informed Sansa's father.

Her father looked startled but said nothing on that. "Well, I thank you again, Ser Barristan, and relieve you of duty. I can take over from here."

Ser Barristan hesitated before shaking his head. "Forgive me, Lord Hand, but I would rather not. King Robert was adamant I watch over your daughter and so I will continue to do so."

"Very well," Ned was uncertain but again said nothing. He turned to Jory behind him and patted Rickon's head. "Will you watch over him? I will be accompanying Sansa to someone I'd like her to meet."

Curious about what her father was talking about, she watched as Jory took Rickon away, before her father began to take her in hand somewhere. Ros and Ser Barristan trailed behind them.

As they walked through the courtyard, Sansa noticed a man watching them. Dressed in dark, fine clothes, the man smiled curiously at her, nodding a hello. He had hair graying at his temples and from where she was, she noticed his eyes were light-colored.

Uncertainly smiling back, she followed after her father and stopped paying the other any more mind.

"I found you a water dance teacher," Ned announced and she looked up at him eagerly.

"Oh, oh! A dance teacher, Father? I love dancing! I can't believe you remembered that. What do you mean water dance? Will I be dancing in water?"

Her father strangely froze. "Oh, uh…something…like that," he faltered. "Uh, it's more like…the dance was meant for…_dancers_ to…dance… by a water's surface and yet be so gifted in balance, speed, and grace that they do not disturb the water," Ned finished in a rush.

"I know you've always been naturally graceful and have grown more so with age, and that your work with the quarterstaff has apparently made you very quick and balanced with it, so I thought you might enjoy this," he continued on more confidently.

She noted Ser Barristan's strange look directed towards her father and Ros' lost look, and wondered at that. But she inwardly shrugged and brushed it off, too excited about dance lessons.

"Then please, Father! Lead the way," she let him see just how happy she was, especially to know he was thinking about her.

She knew it was harder for him to connect to her and think about what she cared or liked, but she did know he tried and that he was always looking over her and worried endlessly (sometimes too much!). That he'd remember this and think to do something for her, much less something she'd like to do, made her extremely pleased and happy with her father.

Her father continued to lead the way, into a fairly large room with an open terrace from one end of the room to the other. By it, a man stood with a straight black and a friendly smile.

"Sansa, this will be your water dance teacher, Syrio," Ned said, eyes darting to the man.

Syrio bowed extravagantly. "Welcome, Lady Sansa! I look forward to teaching you."

"Yes, it'll be quite the _dance_ lessons," her father said with emphasis and still staring down the man.

Ser Barristan coughed from behind them.

Syrio shifted, looking from her father to her and then back. "Right. Yes. Dance lessons."

"Is the dance common around here? Will I be able to use it in time for the tournament? I would very much like to learn whatever dances I can," Sansa's excitement was just growing.

Ned gave her an awkward grin. "Y-yes. Anything for you, Firebright. Dance to your heart's content, alright?"

"Thank you so much, Father!"

She missed him and Syrio exchanging meaningful looks.

* * *

Sansa sighed to herself, looking out the window and smoothed her finger over her embroidery. After her first lesson, she felt exhausted and thought to retire to the palace's library and rest, dismissing Ros to learn about the palace and whatever she'd like.

She missed her brothers and sister, and even her mother. She even missed Theon. She was still worried about Bran, even if she was happy to hear that he was awake now, the raven fast reaching them just after their arrival to King's Landing.

She had Rickon and Father with her, but she was still feeling lonely in this city already. For so long, she'd wanted to come here and see how different it was from the North, but now that she was here, she was scarcely able to enjoy herself.

When she thought about him…Joffrey, her betrothed, was…spoiled. He was spoiled and he had a mean streak that gave her a bad feeling, and she had half a mind to go to her father to ask him to break the betrothal. But then she'd glance at her wrist and wince to herself.

She was confused and feeling lost. Why was she given _three_ Soul Marks? Why was she connected to _those_ men? She didn't understand at all and she almost wished she had been given no Soul Marks at all, than to be stuck in her current situation.

And, more to it, according to the Faith, polygamy was illegal. There was no way her having more than one Soulmate would be accepted after all, and she didn't think the men that were her Soulmates were the type to share or even remotely get along with each other.

Was she meant to choose? Or was she really supposed to have all three of them? Not that they would have her. She would be just a child, compared to them. They'd be dismayed or even disgusted at having to be tied to the likes of her.

"Now if that isn't a pretty maiden lost in thoughts, then I'll be blind!"

Sansa blinked and turned to the interloper to her thoughts. By description of him and recognizing the Baratheon resemblance to King Robert, she could already tell who it was.

She stood up and curtsied. "Lord Renly!"

"Oh! You recognize me, do you? I'm quite pleased." He came closer and took her hand, grazing his lips against it. "Lady Sansa, is it? Your own looks are just as recognizable, I'd say!"

Sansa blushed. "Thank you, my Lord. Is there anything I can help you with?"

Lord Renly gestured to the chairs next to her. "May I?"

"Of course!" she said, trying not to be flustered. Then again, with how handsome Lord Renly turned out to be, it was a little hard not to be.

He smiled pleasantly at her. "It would actually be very nice to get to know you, my Lady."

She reciprocated both smile and words back to him, thinking it would be nice to get to know one of her Soulmates' brother.

* * *

Renly had entered the library to pick up a book, not expecting to see anyone else in there. But there was and, even though he had not seen her before, she was already instantly recognizable. Word spreads fast in King's Landing, and around the castle, there was plenty of gossip about the new Hand and his children, and definitely plenty about the beauty of his daughter.

Renly had been pretty sure that, while truth could be woven in, that it certainly would've been sorely exaggerated. It was a shock then, to see for his own eyes that she was very much a beautiful maiden whose beauty was indeed worth the talk.

Curious about her and knowing that, if Ned Stark was going to be Hand and stay there, his daughter would be as well.

"Lady Sansa, yes?" he smiled congenially at her, patting the seat directly by her and sitting down once she indicated he could sit by her. "How do you like King's Landing so far?"

"It's large and loud," she said honestly. "I haven't been here long, but…it's a bit overwhelming."

He laughed. "Oh yes, I can see that. It's also crowded and I'm sure it stinks, right?"

She gave him a sheepish look, smile shy and rather endearing. "In the North, the air is ice-cold…but it is much cleaner than the air around here."

"The weather's not bad around here, so there's that," he mused. "But I might endure the cold if it meant cleaner air. What is it are you working on there?" he changed subjects.

She held up her embroidery. "I've been working on a handkerchief, since there's going to be a tournament. I'm only assuming, but Ser Jaime probably will be in it, and I'd like to give him a token. We've become good friends, you see?"

Renly was surprised by that. She made friends with a Lannister? And the _Kingslayer_ at that?

"Well, you know," he started playfully, "I'm going to enter it as well. Might I ask for a token from a lovely lady?"

She blushed, looking a bit flustered. He laughed a little and reached out to lightly pat her hand.

"It's quite alright! I don't mean to fluster you, my Lady."

"I wouldn't mind!" she said then, smile turning shier. "Do you a particular fabric or color you'd like?"

He blinked and thought about it, and once he mentioned the types he liked, somehow or other, the two of them began talking about fabrics, which led to fashions, and oddly enough, he began to enjoy himself. It was such a candid, casual and _pleasant_ conversation, and it's been so long since he remembered having one. Even the talks with Loras were not always so peaceful and without gossip or bias.

It felt a bit strange having such a sincere, ordinary talk with someone, especially without the hidden barbs and insults he was used to in this place.

"You know, you must certainly come to me if you need anything around here," he told her, already feeling fond and attached to this girl. "Think of me as your older brother here in the capital!"

She was startled before a wonderfully, _beautiful_ look of happiness was directed at him.

Indeed, if he was not so inclined towards men…

Dazed, he offered his own tremulous smile back, feeling as if something momentous in his life had just happened.

"Thank you," she said sincerely. "I have my brother and father here, but I miss my other siblings —I was very close to them and I wish I could see them terribly. I know it hasn't been too long since I left my home, but it feels like it, being separated from them like this."

"I wish I had a bond with my brothers like you do with yours," he found himself admitting to her, taken aback by the honesty he was sharing with virtually a stranger. But part of him felt like this was okay and that it also knew she wouldn't use it against him or try to hurt him.

"We hardly get along," Renly continued. "You know the King. Gods, Robert can't control himself, even if his life depends on it. Ever since…" he glanced at her, remembering who she was related to. "Well, losing your aunt was like it killed Robert years and years ago and all that's left is that drunkard. Not that he'd ever been the best to me or even Stannis when we were younger. He preferred your father once they'd met and fostered together at the Vale. After our parents' death, that's probably what really made him and Stannis probably break apart and become soulless assholes," he said bitterly.

"I was too young to remember it, but I do know that Robert paid little attention to me and Stannis. He was already foolhardy and prideful, and it wasn't until your aunt that he found any sense. And then she was gone and he fell apart even more. And Stannis? He may have watched over and taken care of me when I was young, but he's always been strict and harsh, and he criticized everything I said or did."

He couldn't understand it, why he said so much to her, but he did know it felt right and it was like a huge burden came off of him to say all this —and not just complain about things. To just really _say_ what he was actually _feeling_…

Suddenly, Renly felt a small hand creep into his, holding it gently. He looked up to see Lady Sansa smile solemnly.

"When I was much younger, I fought endlessly with my sister. We did not get along and we had so many things different, that we ended up clashing and disagreeing most of the time. Then I saw my sister cry and feel horrible after a lecture from our septa, and I decided, _this is my sister_. I was older than her and it is my duty as her older sister to always love and care for her, no matter what. Even one of my older brothers, because he was a bastard, I treated distantly until I realized, above all else, he was _still_ my brother."

She squeezed his hand. "Sometimes, most times…family is _family_, and it is our job to learn to communicate and compromise. Sometimes we don't understand and think things that aren't true; maybe I criticized my sister too much and still sometimes do, but I only want the best for her and am trying to help her do better. Maybe Lord Stannis doesn't mean to be so harsh, maybe it's just in his nature. I don't know him, nor can I tell what is in his head, but I do know that I've been similar to him in regards to my siblings. But it doesn't mean I don't love them any less. My siblings and I still fight, and it's normal, but we also know that we love each other. I won't say or assume our families are the same, Lord Renly, but sometimes just _talking_ gets a point across and learn the truth of things."

He blinked several times at her, grudgingly thinking it over and wondering about his own brothers. He also felt slightly in awe at the wisdom this young girl already had and the love she had for her family (and what he can assume was very much reciprocated).

"There is a saying in my family," she started. "One we know we always end up saying a lot."

"What? 'Winter is coming?'" he teased.

She rolled her eyes and playfully swatted his arm. "No! Well, that too. But _no_, not the one I'm talking about."

Lady Sansa gave him a mock glare that he chuckled at.

"No, what we do like to say often as well, is that 'The lone wolf dies, but the pack survives.'"

He couldn't help the scrutinizing look he gave her then, before his lips twitched up bittersweetly.

"What a lovely saying, my Lady," he murmured, looking at her fondly then. "I would also say I would be most honored if you would consider adding me to your pack."

Renly could see he'd shocked her, but he had been honest. And then he again received one of those enchanting smiles of hers.

"But of course, Lord Renly! We'll be family soon too, after all."

And then Renly was reminded of Robert's utterly stupid idea to wed his little shit of a son to this sweet girl.

Fuck that.

* * *

Stannis hated this infernal city, but he'd had to be there for the celebration in order of the new Hand. His lips made a sneer —of course, another slight by Robert. All he'd done for his brother for naught. Passed over by a man that Robert considered more of a brother than his own blood.

He did not actually dislike Eddard Stark. He knew the man to be honorable and not at fault for Robert and Stannis' rift.

No, the day their parents had died was the day the three Baratheon brothers had stopped functioning as brothers.

"Father, thank you for taking me with you," he heard Shireen say and he looked down at his side to see his daughter smile sweetly at him.

He nodded. "Of course. I thought you would like a change of scenery," he said stiffly. _'And a respite from your mother,'_ he added in his mind. Still, he gave an affectionate squeeze of her shoulder, knowing he wasn't the easiest man to be with either and was rewarded with a happy look from her.

"I'll have you settled in your rooms first," he told her. "And then apparently I must go see your uncle."

"Of course, Father."

He did just that, making sure Shireen was settled in and needed nothing else, and reminded her if she needed something, to ask one of their guards. Then he left and headed straight to the King's solar, though he felt doubtful he'd find Robert there.

However, to his shock, Robert was indeed there, piles of crumpled parchment beside him.

"I have no idea what he's doing, but the amount of paper by him is worrying," he heard his other brother and saw Renly coming up beside him.

Renly nodded to him. "Stannis."

Stannis scowled. "Renly."

"About time you two showed the fuck up! Come in here already," Robert yelled at them, sounding agitated.

They exchanged looks, but then stepped further into the room and headed over to Robert's desk. They noted the absence of any guards and wondered at that.

"Brother, I thought you'd have at least one guard here —Where is Ser Barristan?" Renly asked.

Robert waved him off. "I sent him to watch over Lady Sansa today. He should be with her."

"I was just with her," Renly said then. "He wasn't there. Well, I'm not sure. I wasn't exactly paying attention. I was more focused on talking to Lady Sansa than really taking in my surroundings."

Robert stopped what he was doing, looking at Renly in consternation.

"You were speaking to her?" his tone was oddly short.

Stannis mentally raised his eyebrows. What was up with Robert?

Renly frowned back. "Yes. I ran across her and we had a nice chat. She's quite lovely."

Robert grunted, scratching something out on the current parchment in front of him.

"And too lovely for your son," Renly suddenly said, catching them by surprise.

Robert's face clouded over and Stannis stayed silent, not sure what he'd just walked right into. Having just arrived into the city, he admitted he was already lost on what was happening and not happy about that.

"Joffrey's a spoiled little brat," Renly pushed on. "And you know it, Robert. You really want her to marry your son? That's careless, even for you."

"I keep telling everyone I'll _work_ on Joffrey!" Robert burst out irritatedly. "Gods, I've already broken the betrothal for Ned —he was fucking adamant after my shit of a son hit her the other day on the journey back to this hell hole. You think I don't know my son? I'll set him straight —I swear I will and then I can fix this whole betrothal mess," he muttered, crumpling up the parchment and then reaching for another one.

Stannis was bemused, while Renly was wide-eyed.

Robert threw down his quill onto his desk, before glaring at them. "The betrothal is broken, but don't you two say a damn word, you hear me? I'm fixing this mess."

And then Robert poured wine into a goblet before he gulped it all down, and then repeated it a second time.

While, as usual, Stannis couldn't help scowling at his brother's antics, he also actually admitted he was a bit worried.

Robert slumped back in his chair. "She's going to be a Baratheon, I swear," he slurred a little. "Lyanna might never have gotten to be a wonderful Queen and a beautiful Baratheon bride, but her lovely niece will be."

Okay, so yes, as disdainful as he usually was over Robert, this _was_ worrying. Robert _never_ talked to them about Lyanna (to anyone really) and him commiserating like this, even drunk, was not only not like him but not something he was prone to doing ever. Especially to his estranged brothers.

"I could marry her," Renly declared. "If she's going to marry into our family and gain our name, it doesn't have to be Joffrey. I could do it."

Stannis and Robert stared at him then, but he looked resolute.

"I know your type," Robert muttered. "That's not fair to the Deerling."

Deerling?

"We are already friends," Renly insisted. "Even upon just our first meeting. We get along quite well and I can be good to her —I would be much kinder to her than Joff and you know it."

"If the rumors are true, you wouldn't be able to sleep with her," Robert said crudely, alluding to the rumors about Renly again.

"It wouldn't be a hassle to sleep with her," Renly threw them off with that, not expecting him to say such a thing. "She's pretty and the most loveliest of people, and someone who I have become very fond of already. Our marriage could be made of great friendship."

"I thought you were looking at a betrothal to Lady Margaery," Robert brought up, becoming more serious the longer this discussion continued.

"I'm not close to or as familiar with her, as much as her brother is good friends with me. Lady Sansa, however, is a young, pretty lady I have already grown close to."

"Tch, good friends with her brother," Robert sneered and Stannis saw Renly flinched.

Stannis had nothing to say of his brother's choices either, but Renly was still their brother, so he reached over and clasped his shoulder briefly. Renly gave him a surprised look he ignored, but he was curious at the considering look Renly gave him after.

"Lady Margaery is pretty as well," Robert said.

"I'm still not good friends or have bonded to her as I have Lady Sansa," Renly said firmly.

For a few moments, all Robert did was stare at them heavily, causing even Stannis to tense in that time. This was all really strange of Robert after all…

"I'll think on it," Robert grumbled. "If I can't work things out with those two and Ned stubbornly refuses…"

Then Robert was suddenly staring at Stannis intently instead.

"It's good you came early, instead of coming just in time for the tournament or canceling last minute," Robert said and Stannis didn't know whether he was being insulted or actually genuinely shown gratefulness. Therefore, he just nodded.

"We'll talk more at the Small Council, but as my Master of Ships and one of the best military commanders I know and can trust, I need you to look over our fleet and start working on bolstering it and then looking at our overall defenses on the capital —you can work with Selmy on that probably need more recruits and you could also prepare the capital if there was to be a future invasion."

He didn't know what he looked like, but he knew that Renly was looking dumbly at Robert. Who was this person and why was he suddenly acting responsible and care what happened to the capital?

"Of course, Robert. I'll have it done while I'm here," he said.

Robert took another gulp of his wine. "Mind you, I'll need you to work on this long term, so you should probably look forward to staying here awhile."

"I'll get things started during the tournament and return to Dragonstone to settle my affairs. I'll come back after," Stannis agreed and Robert then began to be distracted by his letter again.

He and Renly looked at each other, before leaving their brother behind.

* * *

Sansa was pleased with her finished piece, a gorgeous shade of crimson cloth that had two lions on their hind legs, reared up and facing each other in equal roars, all embroidered in golden thread. On the edges, she made a pretty but small pattern of cute tiny cubs following after a larger lion, and the Lannister words embroidered under the two large lions.

Setting it aside, she began working on a handkerchief for Lord Renly, giggling quietly to herself as she remembered their meeting earlier. He was quite kind and very handsome! And from him, she managed to even learn a little about her Southron Soulmate (for though she'd considered him one before, Lord Lannister was actually a Westernman).

Idly, in her amusement, she wondered if having a Soulmate from the South, the West, and the North was saying something. What about the East?

She laughed aloud again, drawing a small smile from her quiet bodyguard, Ser Barristan having sat in a chair in the far corner, able to see her and keep watch while keeping a quiet presence. Lord Renly probably hadn't even noticed him either!

She was almost done with Lord Renly's token, when the door opened and let in a quiet, young girl who looked several years younger than Sansa. Maybe even around Arya's age? Or more Rickon's…

But the closer she got, Sansa's breath hitched —she recognized the greyscale going down the girl's face and knew of only one case of where a young girl survived it.

This had to be her Soulmate's daughter, Shireen Baratheon.

"Oh! Hello," she said shyly to Sansa, looking nervous. She gave a sweet smile to Sansa that made her melt. "I'm Shireen. It's nice to meet you…?"

"I'm Sansa," she said, almost hushed. Her Soulmate's daughter was here. That meant that her Soulmate was here.

_Her Soulmate was here_.

Sansa gave a breathless smile to Shireen. "Would you like to sit with me? We could move to the couches and embroider together?"

"I don't actually know how to," she said bashfully.

Gods, she was so cute!

Sansa gave a kind look, reaching out a hand. "I wouldn't mind teaching you, if you'd like?"

And Sansa was happy to have Shireen eagerly accept her hand and agree to it.

* * *

Stannis, after that strange meeting with Robert, immediately split ways from Renly and decided to look for his daughter. After asking the guards around his chambers, he learned where she had headed off to and went that way himself.

Shaking his head, he continued his walk to where he knew his daughter had been hiding, not wanting to deal with the other ladies of the court (or other people in general). He sympathized, not one to deal with them either, though he knew Shireen did so out of not wanting to hear the whispers or outright insults regarding her greyscaled-scarred face.

"…and I hold firm here?" he heard Shireen's voice say shyly and he furrowed his eyebrows.

"Yes. Hold firm there and turn your wrist, so that you can use the needle to thread through here," another, soft and sweet, voice replied to his daughter and he stiffened up.

Quickening his steps, he came closer and saw his daughter looking focused as she carefully used needle and thread on a cloth, while an older girl sat next to her with her own embroidery and patiently instructed Stannis' daughter.

He could not contain his surprised pleasure at the scene, relieved to find his daughter not being harassed but even treated kindly. Shireen had never learned to embroider before, with Selyse not having the patience nor desire to teach her, and Stannis had been negligent…and too uneasy to let someone near his daughter to teach her.

But now, it looked to have been that Shireen had stumbled across a sweet, pretty girl, who seemed to be patiently instructing his daughter on embroidery and was actually rather talented at it, if her own work in her hand was any indication.

And…she was not without beauty herself. Whoever she was, she must certainly be inundated with many admiring gazes for her bright auburn hair, her comely face, and soft features…

Stannis shook his head at himself and the strange turn his thoughts had taken. He had to remember himself —he already had a wife, even if they were far from happy and content with each other. He had made his vows. He wasn't Robert.

"Shireen, I've been looking for you," he called out softly, so as to not scare the girls. Though still startled, they did not jump out of their skins at his appearance.

"Father!" Shireen beamed at him and stood up quickly to come to him, embracing him lightly. He stiffened slightly but managed to quickly raise his arms and circle her a moment and then dropping them quickly. She took a step back from him, still smiling. "This is Lady Sansa. She's been kindly teaching me how to embroider."

_Sansa_ (an elegant name) stood gracefully and curtsied to him.

"Stannis Baratheon, my Lady. Thank you for your kindness," he said stiffly.

She paused slightly at his name before she nodded and turn a smile to his daughter. "It was my pleasure, Lord Stannis. Lady Shireen has been an excellent learner and has been kind enough to share the solitude of the library with me in the first place."

He looked around discreetly with his eyes, noting the surrounding books. This place did afford the quiet and privacy that could be afforded, but he hadn't thought that a young, pretty girl as the one in front of him would want to be in here and not giggle with the other ladies of the court in the gardens or be off watching the training knights.

But there was a strange haunted air around the girl that put an unease in him and made him want to reassure her. It made him inwardly blanch and mentally shake his head.

"Don't mind my presence then. Continue on," he told them indifferently, moving away from them and heading towards a spot by the window to the side of their chosen area. He sat down and was pleased to see the cyvasse board placed on the table by his chair. He could spend the time playing against himself.

After a while, he looked to see how the girls were doing, only to inwardly sigh. His daughter had fallen asleep, resting against Sansa without a care. The poor girl didn't look bothered though —continuing to stitch her embroidery in peace while careful not to jostle Stannis' daughter. He strode over immediately.

"I apologize for her," he said, going to reach for Shireen. "She should not have fallen asleep on you."

Sansa smiled brightly at him, making his breath hitch and his movements to halt. "It's quite alright. I don't mind at all and she could stay here for the moment and rest. I'm merely finishing this handkerchief I wish to gift her with —ah, but don't tell her! It's a surprise."

His lips twitched up without his permission, but he still reached for Shireen. "I'm sure you would be more comfortable and can embroider better if I at least move her out of your way."

"I'm almost done," she promised. "May I ask what you were doing by the window?"

He was surprised that she was asking about him and it made strange feelings erupt in his stomach. He lightly cleared his throat.

"I was playing cyvasse by myself," he said. Then he hesitated before asking. "Do you know how to play?"

She shook her head and he found himself asking before thinking, "Would you like to learn?"

Inwardly, he was balking at himself. What was he _doing_? He should be cutting his interaction with the girl short. He didn't like talking with others more than he had to, and now he was willingly engaging her.

"I'd like that very much, Lord Stannis," her smile turned shy and he felt his stomach flip.

She put her embroidery down and headed his way and he felt himself tense. Keeping his face neutral, he turned and headed back towards his seat, mindful of her following him.

When he sat down, he saw her sit opposite from him and he made himself take a deep breath, wiping his hands on his pants and trying to compose himself.

"Let me start with the rules…" he murmured.

And as she listened to him, he found himself wondering if she wasn't minding his presence and spending this time with him…

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It hadn't been long with their impromptu cyvasse lesson when he heard a cleared throat and saw that Ser Barristan was there. Not sure when the man had come, he looked to the knight and raised an eyebrow.

"Lord Stannis, Lady Sansa, there is a Small Council meeting in ten minutes hence," he informed them.

"I'll be there," he said, reluctantly standing up, having actually enjoyed himself for once.

"Oh, well, thank you for your time, Lord Stannis," Lady Sansa said, watching him closely as she gave him a sweet (if strangely longing?) smile.

"You're mistaken, Lady Sansa. If you weren't informed yet, and it is also my mistake for not informing you as well, but His Grace requested that you attend this meeting," Ser Barristan informed her and Stannis saw her sit up in surprise.

The day seemed full of surprise.

After having made those two go on and only _now_ vaguely realizing this was _that_ Lady Sansa that Renly and Robert had been talking about earlier, he grabbed his daughter and carried her back to her chambers, laying her on her bed and then ordering their guards to keep watch outside. Then he walked to the Small Council Chamber and entered to everyone there and getting settled. Lady Sansa was standing up, since a chair hadn't yet been placed there for her, and he was about to offer his own when Ned stood up and let his daughter take his place at the table.

"Alright, where are we on this tournament business?" Robert barked out.

While Stannis listened in, devoted to do his duty despite the current issue not being of importance to him, he also thought on Robert's oddly responsible behavior. Had something happened with his brother in the time since he'd last seen him?

"On the issue of those Targaryen welps across the sea," he heard Robert start on and Stannis focused on his brother. "I've thought on this and Lady Sansa has mentioned that perhaps it would do some good to reach out to them…good-naturedly. I don't know if they'll give a shit, but at least people who matter will know and care that I didn't go and off the bast —children. Dragon children," Robert gave a strange cough and glanced at the only lady at the table.

"So…Your Grace, would you wish for me to write and have our contact stop the —" Lord Varys was cut off with a look from Robert, who again glanced at Lady Sansa.

"Yes," Robert said in a gruff tone. "Cancel it."

He cleared his throat. "In the meantime, I'll be writing that letter. Lady Sansa, as it was your idea, would you help with it? I also think you could include your own letter. Maybe you could charm them dragons, eh?"

Lady Sansa nodded, smiling politely even as he saw shock and uncertainty in her eyes. Stannis was sure that the others, as well as he, were astonished by this turn of events and Robert's unusual decision towards a more diplomatic approach. It was unlike him.

And that it came from this young girl? That Robert actually listened to her? What in the Seven Hells was going on?

"She did also add that, while reaching out probably won't work, in the meantime King's Landing must be prepared. Hence her very good advice in bolstering our forces, mainly our fleet as those Targaryens will be coming towards us on water."

Stannis took that moment to scrutinize the young lady more —he again noted her stunning beauty (something undeniable and something he couldn't _not_ note), but now he also took in consideration of, aside from her apparent kindness and sweet demeanor, she also seemed rather logical and a person with perhaps a good head for politics and ruling a kingdom. If anyone but Joffrey was in line to be King, she would be easily married off to a Crown Prince and rule as a good Queen.

Her head wasn't in the clouds, like most girls her age, and she wasn't just some chittering, gossiping woman like most ladies of the court seem to be. She did not flinch away or disparage Stannis' daughter, a thing he would be most grateful for, and she seemed intelligent —if the quick way she managed to grasp cyvasse within the short time they'd had.

It also seemed clear to him that aside from her capability, Robert liked the idea of her being married to Joffrey and becoming Queen, and was already preparing her for such heavy decisions that no doubt Joffrey would be incapable or uncaring to deal with (and of which she seemed quite able to do so herself).

Only he decided he was with Renly and it was too stupid a decision to tie her with Joffrey.

"Alright! That's all I cared about —the rest of you can deal with whatever's needed. Lady Sansa, have you seen the gardens? I know you love flowers. I'm sure you'll enjoy them here! Let's see if Myrcella is available to join us, hm?"

Then Robert swept her away and left the small group almost a little in shock.

Started 4/1/20 – Completed 4/7/20

Cyvasse scene 1k-ish words 11/23/19-11/28/19

Sansa/Renly scene 12/7/19-4/7/20

**A/n:****My attitude right now is Robert's. This chapter was a nightmare to edit ;-; I hope you all enjoyed the source of my pain and agony XD**

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**Quick Points:**

1\. Barristan wasn't supposed to have such a huge presence until later. But somehow he demanded his way into getting earlier screentime. Same with Stannis. His debut was the cyvasse scene and instead he demanded showing his arrival. What is with these characters and demanding from me? (_Going crazy and acting as if characters are real people…_)

2\. Syrio: Haha, who thought Ned was taking Sansa to meet Stannis? Anyway, I thought I was going to have Sansa literally have water dance lessons until I saw there was no such thing and then decided I'll use my misconception as an actual misconception in the fic because I decided I wanted to see this miscommunication and Ned being awkward and doing a fail (takes deep breath). Poor guy, girls are tough, aren't they? This and when reading up on water dance actually lining up with Sansa's style with her quarterstaff and partly herself (speed, grace, balance?), so it fit *shrugs*.

3.** Current GoT Fics**: _Her Song of Fire and Ice_ (SansaxRoose/Stannis/Tywin), _A Red King Bowed_ (Roose/Sansa), and _March to My Heartbeat_ (Stannis/Sansa). Also _**The (Im)Perfect VERSE**_, including _Deck the Halls_ and now _Count Me Down to Midnight_, _Be Still, Heart_ and now _Drinks on Me, Beads on You_.

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**Anon Reviews:**

1._ Sansa sucks all chapter 1 . Mar 26_

_Sansa is the worst. Fuck you for writing a story devoted to her and all the other evil horrible characters. I hope she gets raped to death_

Bwahahaha! You're such a loser XD I can't believe there are people like you. Hate on, troll~


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